


An anchor I can hold onto.

by Arubi



Series: Holding on and Letting go. [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Charmed - Freeform, Depression, Drugs, Emotional Manipulation, Evil Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Hot male characters trying to compete with Derek, Im evil., It has a little bit of, M/M, Magic, Manipulations, Melancholy, Multi, Non Consensual, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Potions, Really hot Stiles, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arubi/pseuds/Arubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But it’s okay… y’know, It’s kind of my fault, y’know, because I always went for things way over my head. Like going after you.” He gestured at her and she smiled shyly before rolling her eyes.</p><p>“and falling for Derek.” His voice turned low. Lydia was about to open her mouth when he put a hand up.</p><p>“and fooling myself into thinking I could be a part of all that – you know, the pack. I’m always way over my head.” He giggled and stared down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dark, especially when it comes to Stiles. It might trigger/upset some people, but I promise it has a very satisfying ending.  
> It's a story about Stiles finding his own 'anchor' and Derek slowly learning to let people in.
> 
> STEREK will be present, but there will be a lot of angst before that.

 

**_An Anchor I can Hold Onto._ **

* * *

Playlist while Reading:

[An Anchor I can Hold Onto (Click Here)](http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/An+Anchor+I+Can+Hold+Onto/84830185)

(Go to the link and select 'Play All'.)

* * *

Stiles only started noticing a couple of weeks after they managed to drive the alpha pack out of the town. Everything was serene; Scott and Allison were back together, Derek finished refurbishing the Hale house, and Jackson came back, reuniting with everyone and especially Lydia. Stiles didn’t spend as much time with Scott - actually, he rarely ever did spend time with anyone any more. Scott became very close with Isaac, the two helping each other out and looking after one another during the battles with the alpha pack. Deaton, Mrs. Morrell and Lydia were much better at research than Stiles; he only got to help Deaton when he needed an extra hand with conjuring mountain ash barriers or other seemingly supernatural stuff. Stiles gradually became unnecessary, and now that they didn’t need him to lure Scott into the pack Derek barely tolerated him. The first few times, he still attended pack meetings and other gatherings, whether for battle or strategy, but he rapidly realized he was the only piece that didn’t fit in with the group, not any more. He chose to gracefully back out himself; he didn’t want to be told off – he couldn’t handle that.

It made him bitter and angry, because for two years he shared all of their problems and none of their benefits and he never complained. He didn’t even level the playing field when he got the chance, because he wanted to take the high road, be honorable.

_“Do you want the bite?”_

That tantalizing question from Peter haunted him relentlessly, replaying itself in his head over and over again.

Stiles sat on the bathroom’s mat, head between his knees, trying not to throw up. Lately, he'd had to start taking Adderall again. He figured that all of these thoughts were due to the Adderall’s side effects. He'd hoped that they were, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope if they weren’t – especially if the depression, insomnia, loss of appetite, and all the other things that came with taking a very high dose of Adderall and other ADHD preventive pills were still coming.

Stiles decided to start taking them again when he had an anxiety attack during class. The symptoms were familiar and straightforward. He started shaking violently for short moments every couple of seconds, his breath hitching and every inch of his body shivering like it was standing on ice. Stiles managed to cope and take care of himself easily enough, excusing himself from the class and managing to make it to the class door without running. Usually Mr. Harris would never have allowed him, but Stiles guessed that by the way he looked - sweaty, breathless, as if someone was holding a gun to his head - and how he stuttered throughout the request earned him an exception. What alarmed him wasn’t the fact that he just had an anxiety attack, but that he hadn’t had one since he was eight, a year after his mother died and his dad was sober for long enough to notice that there was something very wrong with Stiles. The Sheriff didn’t drink much afterwards, at least being diagnosed with ADHD and depression at the same time had that advantage.

Stiles had missed the rest of Chemistry class, busy rinsing his face in water and taking deep breaths in and out until the shaking finally stopped. If water wasn’t the only thing running down his cheeks, but also tears at how Scott didn’t even notice, well, he’d blame it on the Adderall.

He was supposed to go take a bath. He was going to a diner with his father. When he came up with the idea Stiles felt angry because he didn’t want to be the abandoned kid who needed charity. He hated being that. But he agreed, he didn’t spend much time with his father anyway.

Yet it had been fifteen minutes since he entered the bathroom and he was still stuck on the floor, head spinning and his heart racing like mad. Stiles knew that the best way to deal with it was to just wait it out; there was no other real way.

He cursed and swore a couple of times, mostly out of resentment and anger – not to Scott and the others, but to himself. He couldn't believe that he was so foolish as to think that the ‘pack’ depended on him in any way - that they needed him. He was just a temporary fix because they couldn’t do any better - a spare. He despaired at the brute reality that it was him that needed them - that needed Scott in his life. Because Scott anchored him. The whole wolf thing might have been dangerous for Stiles, but it was also the one thing that he depended on to distract him from the constant buzzing noise in his brain. Always suffocating him with one thought after another, like a train slowly going off the rails but never actually managing to fall off, stuck in that constant state of panic.

He wanted it to stop - that loud sound that kept hammering his ears mercilessly. Scott had helped turn those screams into whispers, and the pack and everything that came with the world of the supernatural helped make those whispers fade away.

It was all an amazing fix for Stiles - better than the Adderall. He had stopped taking them when the whole Scott-turning-into-a-wolf started. He didn’t even notice. He was too distracted by Derek, Scott, and the whole werewolf thing. They became his new anchor - an anchor he thought and deluded himself that he could depend on.

\---

“I noticed you started taking the pills again,” his dad dropped randomly while he ate his spaghetti Bolognese. Stiles had ordered a chicken burger with curly fries – because curly fries were his second best medicine.

“Yeah, was finding it hard to focus again.” He gave up on using the fork to eat his fries; his hands were still shaking uncomfortably.

“Does it have anything to do with Scott?” the sheriff tried carefully. He noticed how Stiles had become detached during the last few weeks, and he hated how Stiles stopped smiling so often - how he no longer chattered for long periods without any real interval. It was like he gave up on using the ‘chatter for as long as you can to keep from showing what you’re truly feeling’ masquerade; now he didn’t even bother. He remembered Stiles’ mother used to do the same thing every time something really bothered her. She used to start talking about different subjects to make sure no one noticed that in reality she was sad.

She never stopped talking the moment she was diagnosed with skin cancer - not until the very last minute. That last minute when she finally broke down in his arms and cried all her fears out. Cried until she drifted into a slumber from which she never woke up.

When, a year after, Stiles started doing the same thing, he was like a reflection of her. It terrified the Sheriff. It made him rush to the doctor with Stiles, head exploding with the thought that he was dying as well.

Even if Stiles wasn’t dying, the self-defense mechanism that Stiles resorted to sobered him. It showed him that his wife was still alive in Stiles; it was the anchor which held him strong throughout the years - the anchor which made him strive and successfully become the Sheriff.

“Something like that,” Stiles muffled out between large bites from his burger.

“I noticed that you two aren’t hanging out as much as you used to.”

“Well, now he has Allison, Dad.”

“He had Allison two years ago,” he pressed. He hoped that he wasn’t pushing Stiles too far.

“Well… and he has new buddies, everybody grows up, Dad.” Stiles shrugged and kept eating, his head low and eyes bitter and distant.

His father just nodded and as he looked at the Stiles in front of him, he compared him to the goofy, clumsy Stiles that he knew a few months earlier. He desperately tried to think of where everything had gone so wrong.

 

 


	2. Temptation

“Do we know what it is exactly?” They were in Deaton’s clinic, and Isaac, leaning onto the metal hospital table, was the first to speak after Derek told them about something new showing up in town.

“I’m not sure yet, but from its scent… it wasn’t completely alive,” Derek said, trying to put it as naturally as possible.

“What do you mean not alive? Like dead?” It was Scott who chimed in first, and Lydia rolled her eyes.

“No, it’s not dead. Its scent was like… it was rotting, decaying - Deaton thinks it might be a Fey.”

All their faces contorted into various degrees of confusion, except for Lydia’s.

 “Fey… Fairy? They exist?”

Everyone immediately started spilling questions out of their mouths, prompting Derek to growl and silence them one by one, well, apart from Lydia, who was seemingly also immune to not just the werewolf bite but… everything.

 “Guys, calm down, all of you.” Deaton paused for a moment before continuing. “A Fey is very much different from a Fairy. They are creatures who feed on the darkness within a person’s heart, manipulating them gradually until they can control them as they wish.”

 “How do they do that?”

 “It’s very subtle. Mere interactions with them start the process, and, slowly, the person starts falling under their thrall without being aware of it. A Fey draws power from the person it manipulates. Drawing the power from humans gives them a lot of strength, but if they were to draw enough power to challenge this pack - and in the worst case scenario, manipulate one of you – then they can become even stronger than an alpha.”

 “But as long as we stay away from one, we’ll be okay? Right?” Scott looked like a scared puppy, hiding slightly behind Allison, eyes wide.

 “Well, it is very difficult to identify a Fey. Derek caught it while it was hunting, when their other form appears. At any other time, a Fey can assume their human form. While human, they are weak, but they are also untraceable and their charm is at its strongest.”

Derek snorted. “I’m not sure it can charm anyone in its true form. It looked horrible.” Everyone stared at Derek for a moment like he had grown a second head, disbelief written on their faces at the fact that that kind of comment came from Derek’s mouth. He clearly spent too much time with Lydia decorating the Hale house. At least she looked pleased.

 “What do they feed on?” Scott asked, still shaking slightly.

 “Meat,” Deaton smiled. “Well, meat keeps them alive, but severely weak. Without anyone under their thrall, they are extremely weak. That’s why it smelled like it was dying and looked, as Derek put it, horrible - and that’s also how we know that we still have time to deal with it before it becomes a larger threat.”

 “But why come to Beacon Hills? When it is filled with werewolves who can kill it? Especially since it’s dying,” Derek asked, baffled.

“Well, perhaps something or someone attracted it here; it could be the idea of luring a werewolf under its thrall or it could have a particular goal.”

 “How can we stop it?” Boyd said, stepping in.

 “I have a recipe for an elixir I can mix up; it will grant a werewolf the ability to scent a Fey just like anything else. However I need you guys to bring me the ingredients. They are not easily found... and I also need Stiles”

“Why would you need Stiles?” Allison asked, confused.

“He has a very particular talent when it comes to supernatural things like these.”

“Like the mountain ash thing?” Scott interrupted, momentarily enlightened. He had his moments.

“Yes, not anyone can make mountain ash work. For a common person, mountain ash works as nothing more than dust. For me and Stiles; it can become a very powerful weapon.”

…

Stiles was sitting in the cafeteria, listening to Imagine Dragons and humming along to ‘Bleeding Out’ when Scott shook him out of his senses.

“What? What!?” Scott started talking, and Stiles put his earphones away quickly, catching up with whatever the hell Scott was babbling  
about.

“What?” he asked again after Scott finished.

“Dude, it’s like you’re not even hearing me,” Scott frowned.

“Errr… I had earphones… in my ear.”

 “Sorry, well, Deaton needs you with something. You can come with me to the clinic after school if you want.”

“O-okay, what is it about?”

“There’s this new thing which like, makes people do whatever it asks them to do!” he splutters out, half excited and half terrified.

“Interesting. Eaten anyone yet?”

“Maybe. Derek tracked it yesterday; he said it smelled like it’s rotting.”

“Well why haven’t you tracked it yet?”

“Well it can change its form… become totally human and be untraceable.”

“Like transfiguration? Or cloaking?”

“…Yes,” Scott replied, dumbfounded at the words. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

They continued talking for a while about this Fey and Stiles felt happy. He rarely joined in on conversations any more. He had stopped trying and making himself look like a fool since he started taking the Adderall. His happiness only lasted until he realized once again that the only reason that he was in the conversation in the first place was because they needed him. Then the only thing he could feel was bitterness and loneliness. Whatever they needed him for was probably something to do with Deaton and his magical stuff. He had told Stiles that he was capable of channelling supernatural energy like him. Stiles wasn’t sure what to believe at first, but Deaton seemed cool and so did the tricks they pulled off together during the battles with the Alpha pack.

The rest of the lessons were quite boring. He didn’t have any anxiety attacks, rather everything felt dull and bleak. He felt so detached from everyone and everything, like a machine. It was no doubt the Adderall, the familiar sense of being emotionless and acting like a zombie; just existing and nothing else was what made him so desperate to find something to cling onto rather than those damned pills. He wanted to be alive, to feel, but now he had nothing and they had to suffice.

…

“So I have to channel my energy into this… leaf?”

“It’s an herb Stiles; it’s actually a very rare and powerful one. Just do it like we practiced.” Stiles raised an eyebrow; the leaf didn’t look like anything special apart from the fact that its color was a dark purple.

“So this will make the scenting elixir. Didn’t you just say you needed many ingredients?”

“I do, but I had this herb stored just in case the need ever rose. It is what I call the main ingredient of the elixir.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Stiles asked, confused. If this leaf was as powerful as Deaton said, then why in hell would he let him handle it?

“Your energy is much more youthful and powerful than mine, Stiles. I stopped practicing for years and that made my energy idle. Yours, however, is fresh.”

Stiles raised another eyebrow but didn’t argue; instead, he held the leaf between both of his hands and focused his energy into it. It was quite easy now that he had gotten used to it. He just had to picture the leaf in his mind and allow his energy to flow through it. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know how to do it.

It took a few moments until the leaf shone brightly and released a pink vapor; Deaton quickly moved in and trapped the vapor in a small tube.

“That’s all?”

“Yes, Stiles, thank you. I’ll send for you when I receive the other ingredients, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine, see you.” Stiles left in a hurry. Between Deaton explaining to him all about the Fey and the potion time had passed quickly and it was already almost eight.

“You could have channelled that herb as well, Deaton.” Mrs. Morrell entered the clinic just after Stiles left, smirking.

“So could you,” Deaton said. He couldn’t manage a smile.

“My energy isn’t pure and harmonic like yours, Deaton. I would have turned it into fume, you know, like Stiles did.” She grinned; apparently Stiles wasn’t meant to be Deaton’s disciple, but hers.

\--

It was already eight when Stiles got home. He groaned when he saw ‘English Assignment’ written in glistening red on his diary for tomorrow. He took his Adderall, made a cup of coffee, and headed to his room, settling on his laptop and putting up some music before starting his English assignment. It was about Wilfred Owen, a poet who spent his time in the war writing about his feelings and describing gore scenes.

He managed to make it to the end of the first page before he gave in to his need to search about the Fey or whatever Deaton called them. Stiles might have stopped being a part of the group but his thirst to just _know things_ was too great. He was insatiable and not knowing things didn’t sit well with him. It made him feel ignorant and empty – emptier than he already felt. He started by resorting to Google, which only involved images of fairies and female models. It wasn't exactly what he was aiming for, but it wasn’t his only card, either. He moved on to searching through posts in forums and journals he had joined in throughout the years of playing MMORPGs and being a healthy and active member of _that_ side of the internet. He found some pretty useful information about werewolves when Scott had started showing the symptoms. Most of the people he talked with either trolled him with ridiculous facts, were lunatics, or just ignored him, but there was that very small portion that actually knew what they were talking about.

After a lovely forty-five minutes of inane chatting without any real goal or progress at getting any answers in regards to Fey, Stiles gave up. Apparently these things were much more secluded than both vampires and werewolves. Stiles wondered about it again. Deaton explained to him quite a lot about the Fey. Similar to the Kanima, they seemed to be quite rare yet very powerful. Stiles shuddered at the thought of how many different kinds of things there were, yet despaired at the apprehension that he wasn’t part of any of that any more.

He was startled when a new contact notification appeared on Skype. It was a guy named Klaus.

He glanced at his profile picture, which showed a young man, possibly in his early twenties with disheveled jet black dyed hair, stunning blue eyes, and pale skin.

Klaus: **_Hey_**

Stiles wasn’t sure what to do. He assumed that he was probably a guy from one of the forums who decided to add him. It wasn’t the first time and he had an entire group of them on Skype.

            Stiles: ** _Hey buddy_**

            Klaus: **_How are you?_**

            Stiles: ** _I’m fine thanks, sry this might be rude but could u tell me from where did u add me? Im a lil confused’_**

            Klaus: ** _I don’t know myself, I was just randomly searching through a forum and added you when I saw you’re from Beacon Hills_**.

            Stiles: **_Y Beacon hills?_**

            Klaus: **_I’ll be transferring there very soon, I thought it’d be a good chance to know someone._**

            Stiles: **_That’s great! U rlly don’t know which forum?_**

Stiles was a little baffled at how he could forget from which forum this Klaus added him, unless he was one of the newbies who just added anyone with a half interesting username, because _Stiles_ was a very interesting username, even if no one even believed him when he told them it was his real name.

            Klaus ** _: No, sorry. Hope you don’t mind?_**

            Stiles: **_Not at all._**

            Klaus: **_So you’ve been in Beacon hills for long?_**

            Stiles: **_All my life. Y r u coming here?_**

            Klaus: **_Decided to try new things’_**

            Stiles: **_You’re coming alone? That’s bold buddy. It’s a long way._**

            Klaus: **_I have a relative who’ll show me around, and I hope you’ll show me around as well ;)_**

Stiles paused for a while. Was the guy hitting on him? He snorted.

            Stiles ** _: Sure mate._**

            Klaus: **_So.. what do you like doing?_**

            Stiles: **_Hanging out with my friends… Searching stuff… the usual_**

            Klaus: **_I love hanging out with my friends too… we do all sort of stuff together :p_**

Stiles brows furrowed, it was already almost half past nine and he wanted to finish his English paper.

            Stiles: **_Listen buddy, I have to go, have stuff to do, talk to you some other time._**

            Klaus: **_Wait wait_**

He received a webcam call and sighed exasperatedly, so this guy was a horny jack ass with a probably fake profile picture, he couldn’t believe he had wasted his time chatting with him. He clicked on the decline button and moved on to block him.

            Klaus: **_Ok, I’ll go first. I’ll show you whatever you want._**

His hand paused on the ‘yes’ of the block confirmation window. Stiles was frozen, refusing to believe what he just read. The webcam request appeared again and his entire body shivered. He suddenly felt unbearably hot, yet he kept shaking slightly, his entire brain screaming in protest as he accepted yes.

He remembered Peter’s request once again;

_‘Do you want the bite?’_

He had refused, he had taken the high road, and look where it got him.

The Klaus in the profile picture was as legit as he could get. He was smiling into the camera, his eyes vibrant yet very light against the darkness in the room.

Stiles swallowed, and when Klaus stood up and grabbed his crotch and showed off for him, he started quivering, his breath hitching from panic.

He switched on his own camera. He didn’t show anything off, but well, he was doing this, and it would have been unfair… he guessed. He felt self-conscious; the guy was like a model from a porn magazine.

            Klaus: **_You have an amazing smile._**

He blushed from behind the camera, but he couldn’t stop trembling.

The chat had only lasted a few minutes, and immediately afterward, Stiles was in his bathroom, hyperventilating and releasing spasms of incessant shivers.

What was wrong with him? He normally would have automatically blocked this kind of guy without a second thought – but now, he wasn’t sure why he was doing this, exactly. It should have been from curiosity but it wasn’t. Its source was anger and bitterness; his own way of spiting everything around him.

Stiles couldn’t sleep for hours after what had happened. When he did, at two in the morning, he drifted into an uneasy slumber – waking up every twenty minutes and dozing off again. He twisted and changed his position several times trying to sleep – but he just couldn’t. He supposed it was at least partially because of the Adderall. His dosage was high and it was about time the effects set in, however he also knew that it was mostly because he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he had just webcam’d with a guy he barely knew. It wasn’t like him to do this. A part of him told him that he was learning to take risks, to have his own fun without thinking too much about it, to just do it – another part told him he was being stupid, that he was being an idiot for thinking having some fun with a random guy could fill the void which had settled deep inside of him since he grew apart from Scott and the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used this chapter mostly to settle the plot, I promise I'll do better.


	3. Coveted

Stiles woke up with his head ringing and his neck aching from all the different twists and positions he tried while attempting to sleep.

He groaned loudly and finally got out of bed, swearing and almost fighting with his clothes as he pulled them on. He was irritated, he seriously didn’t need to be physically damaged as well, but that’s what you get for being a horny idiot with depressive issues. Stiles went into the bathroom and washed his teeth and face, he noticed his hair was getting longer and wondered whether he should leave it to grow further. He grimaced at how his cheeks had hollowed slightly, how his skin became so white, he looked like someone who was ill.

The ride to school was painful, the bumps and thumps of the jeep as it bounced off the supposedly smooth streets of Beacon Hills just made whatever muscles he had twisted during the night ache more. Stiles went to his locker and took out the books for the first three periods, not three minutes passed before Allison and Scott were walking towards him, holding hands and with the same dreamy gooey face that Scott always carried around while he was with Allison.

“Morning,” He greeted them while he stretched again, trying to set his bones in their correct place.

“You all right Stiles?”

“Yeah why?”

“You look like you had a rough night” And Stiles might have choked a little at that, yes he had a rough night, not for the reasons they thought he did, but definitely because of something that included what they thought he did.

Fuck. He skipped his Adderall.

“Haven’t you stopped taking Adderall?” Allison said and Stiles screamed a little internally when he realized he said that out loud.

“Yeah, I did, not focusing well lately…” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and closed his locker once he finished taking out the Chemistry book.

Their first class was English, which would have been relaxing if it wasn’t for the fact that they had to do that damned English assignment (which he didn’t finish, by the way) and if they weren’t reading the most depressing book one could ever find in the history of all books (except maybe for New Moon, but hey, he liked that book - not that he'd ever admit it to anyone).

It definitely set the atmosphere for the next lesson: Chemistry. Mr Harris hated Stiles with a passion. Stiles thought that it was because his father could open his case and revoke his teaching certificate at any time he desired – one would think that would make Mr Harris idolize Stiles and sugar coat him, but no, instead, he lashed out all of his fury and vengeance on him like a maniac. Okay, maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but still, the guy was an asshole.

“Because I’m a person who genuinely loves surprises, I’ve decided to test you in regards to the topic we have just finished, please do not disappoint me too much,” He remarked with his tone bordering from bored to cruelly sarcastic.

Stiles halted in mid-air, he didn’t even have time to sit on the table before he received the worst possible news he could for the day. Really? An essay on the one day he forgot to take his Adderall? He cursed silently.

“Stilinski is something the matter? You seem to be living on a different planet, like the rest of the past two weeks”

Stiles didn’t dignify that with a response, he waited as Mr. Harris passed out the tests throughout the class.

“Ignore him.” Scott whispered from behind him, but his expression didn’t do much to comfort Stiles, he had one of those petrified puppy faces he always made before, during, and after any kind of test which made Stiles want to cuddle him a little. Stiles halted his train of thought and recollections of every time Scott made said face when the paper fell on his desk.

“Thanks. Good luck buddy.”

Stiles stopped at the third question and wrote his name on the paper when he realized that he had forgotten, again. The test wasn’t that difficult, even if he wasn’t really _there_ lately he could still make out the answers – however, the sinister quietness in the class, the chipping of the pens against the papers, and the heat was ripping his concentration away too easily.

His skin started stinging, like someone was tickling him all over every time he remained still even for just a second. Thoughts about what happened the previous night infiltrated his mind like an unstoppable longitudinal wave. He fidgeted through the fifth question, rocking the pen back and forth until that was driving him crazy as well. He stopped and breathed in and out slowly, putting the pen down and closing his eyes.

Stiles felt a little ridiculous right then. He kept blaming Scott and the others for abandoning him and forsaking him but the lines between truth, jealousy, and insecurity blurred thin, was he just being jealous of them? Sure, they were occupied with their own lives and he wasn’t as part of it as he once was but they treated him well, respecting him. Yet why did he have this empty hollow feeling inside of him? This overwhelming sense of helplessness and detachment, the feeling that he was a burden to them – that one single word kept ringing in his head over and over again.

**_A burden to them._ **

Maybe I should give it another try, maybe it’s all in my mind. The thought that he could try and reconnect with them helped him calm down enough to finish his test.

“Scott?” He called out to Scott after they got out of the class and into the corridor.

“Yeah?” Scott turned back, a little smile on his face, apparently he did well, Stiles thought.

“Are you still going bowling on Sathurday?”

“Yes." Scott seemed confused for a second, as if he was fighting an internal battle, he eventually sighed a little and smiled happily. "You coming?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll come. At what time?”

“We’ll pick you up at eight.”

\---

Derek exhaled slowly as he downed the rest of his coffee. The cup was chipped and the lower half of it had tiny cracks, but it was the one thing he could salvage from the burnt down kitchen. No matter how small and insignificant, it was a connection to his family and he didn't have it in himself to throw it away.

“Morning Derek,” Peter greeted as he entered the kitchen, pouring some coffee for himself as well.

“Refill?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it; you seem awfully sour… more than usual.” He added as an afterthought.

“Just thinking about Stiles.”

“Why?” Peter sat down, voice curious. Usually they were immediately joined by Erica and Isaac, but they went out with Boyd for the day, which was a relief for Derek. Not that he didn’t like their company, but he wanted to be alone for the day.

“Are you sure it was a good idea?”

“Yes.” Peter looked at Derek’s still unconvinced face and continued.

“Derek, I already told you that it was for the best to leave Stiles out of pack problems as much as possible, we had to let him go.”

Derek nodded, yet he remembered the previous night and the image made his skin stand on edge.

He had gone to Stiles to check if he was successful with Deaton in doing whatever they had to do with the potion for the Fey. He climbed through the window like usual, it was late. but he knew that Stiles didn’t go to bed anytime early.

Stiles wasn't in his room. Derek looked around and the room was a mess, much more than usual, yet something was out of place, he didn't know if it was in the air or whether it was just a feeling. He knew Stiles' smell, it was that of sweet caramel, detergents, and fries, and it screamed home and warmth - or so Derek remembered, maybe it was because he hadn't been close to Stiles for a while but something told him that it was more than that. The warmth that usually accompanied it was now chilling and cold, it made him feel uncomfortable, unwelcome, everything about it was blank and dull, lifeless.

When Derek heard his cries in the bathroom and smelled the hollow stench of sadness, it overwhelmed him. He followed it until he found himself leaning against the wall of the bathroom.

Hearing Stiles' sobs and his breath hitching constantly was unbearable.

The smell of despair, bitterness, and the brute chill resonating from Stiles made Derek’s own body freeze. It wasn't just sadness, it was anguish. They were the cries of someone choking on nothing but desolation. He decided to look into the bathroom and the view paralyzed him, stupefied him in the same position. Stiles was bare and writhing on the floor, his entire body shivering over and over again. His skin was pale white and some of his bones were visible. He seemed like a man who hadn’t eaten or slept in weeks, he had his head between his knees and Derek could see how the line of his spine and shoulder blades stood out on their own. Maybe it was his heightened senses, but Stiles looked... wrong, frail and weak. All his instincts told him to go and help him out, to grab him off of the floor, take him to his bed and ask what was wrong because Stiles was pack and that would never change for Derek. But he hesitated, remembering Peter’s words and what they had discussed with the rest of the pack. He stayed there until Stiles stopped shaking, until he stepped into the shower and the rustling of the running water drowned his smothered cries.

“Derek?” Peter snapped him out of his recollection, he lost count of how many times that scene had replayed in his head by now.

“Could it be that keeping him out of pack business is exactly what we shouldn’t do? What if this is affecting him badly?”

“It is to be expected for him to be sad for a while, but he’ll get over it and he will move on. We relied on him for too long, he shared too much of our dangers with none of what he had and we can’t keep taking advantage of him like this.

“We were tearing him apart from himself, from his studies, life and even his own father. He stopped his life to help us; shouldn’t we let him have his life back?”

“Lydia and Allison aren’t werewolves either.” He knew it’s a weak argument, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it.

“Lydia has Jackson to protect her and Allison is a hunter and has Scott.”

“Why do you, of all people, care so much about him?” Derek asked finally.

“I don’t know why really, that boy fascinates me a little, he outwitted me when I had both him and Scott surrounded at the school, he mocked me when he was terrified of me, and he declined the bite even though he wanted it more than anything. He’s kind of a paradox.”

Peter took another look at Derek and smirked.

“And because, dear nephew, you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will focus more on Derek, about what changed his view on Stiles.


	4. Trust

“I just couldn’t say no, he looked wrecked and I-I…” Scott stuttered through his attempt to explain.

“Scott is right, just because we can’t involve him in pack business doesn’t mean that we can’t be there him when he needs someone.”

“Allison, the point of this was to let Stiles find other people who could be there him, much safer people.” Peter sighed, his voice almost bored at having to break this down to them.

They were in the Hale’s house, Lydia and Jackson lost in their own flirting sessions on the sofa by the corner in the living room, they were watching ‘Remember Me’; it was safe to say that Isaac and Boyd were on the verge of tears; Erica on other hand was busy mooning over Robert Pattinson. Allison and Scott were in the kitchen with Derek and Peter, arguing over Stiles…. It became a habit lately, Scott was the one most reluctant to let Stiles go, and he still didn’t… not always.

“So what? Should we cancel on him?”

Everyone looked expectantly at Derek with mixed expression, Scott had his big brown eyes pleading Derek to let him, Derek knew Scott would have immediately protested if he thought he was right… but he wasn’t – Peter was.

“Cancel on him.”

He walked away from the kitchen, into the living room and up the stairs, he went into the library he had rebuilt, it didn’t have nearly the volume of books it used to have before the fire but Lydia was filling it gradually. It had floor to ceiling windows on one side, overlooking the woods, shafts of sunlight broke in through the leaves and into the library.             

Derek sat on one side of the huge wooden oak table in the middle of the library, he mulled over whether he should pick a book and read it, the book shelf was huge and half empty on one side of the room, on the opposite side there were cabinets, files, and a computer. Peter had added his own version of a library environment: a cabinet filled with all kinds of liquor that everyone frequently made use of.

He tapped his fingers against the table and stared into the woods, contemplating whether he should go for a run or not. He missed the feeling of branches, twigs, and logs brushing against him as he moved pass them and further into the woods. He missed the smell of bee hives, musk, and soil, how his enhanced sight saw through the tall towering trees and moved between them with unparalleled agility – he savoured it, relished it like nothing else: the feeling of being wild and carefree.

The conversation they just had about Stiles pained him, he knows Scott _will_ cancel on Stiles, and a part of him wished Scott wouldn’t, wished that Scott would argue with him like he did with everything else. Why did he have to, even if reluctantly; agree with the one thing Derek’s instincts screamed against?

He remember the night when they decided to start cutting ties with Stiles, Stiles hadn’t been there because he was at the hospital, four ribs broken, dislocated shoulder, and a twisted leg. He had been attacked by one of the alphas and questioned, he hadn't given them anything, which was what resulted in the brutal injuries.

They had thought they cornered the alphas from all sides, that they had everything covered, but they were wrong; the alphas knew exactly whom they should strike at, the one who was the most valuable yet the most defenceless of the pack. It wasn’t the first time Stiles was injured since the pack came to town, but this time it came too close, they were almost too late, arriving only at the warehouse after at-least an hour of brutal torture. The way his arms and leg were twisted, blood gushing out and forming a pool of red beneath him was horrifying.

It wasn't just that, Stiles had been missing out on school and he argued with his father incessantly because of the pack, lying and manipulating him away from the evidence, almost costing his father his job for a second time. Even his grades were falling rapidly. The pack knew Stiles was intending to go to Berkeley College by getting a scholarship, when due to his now not-so-stellar grades, getting a scholarship started becoming improbable but he just shrugged and carried on. They had decided on Peter’s words that once the ordeal with the alpha pack was over they would do something about it, Derek had agreed – as hard as that was.

Derek didn’t really know exactly when he actually started caring about Stiles. The relationship between them was always based on arguing, snide comments, snarky replies, and physical threats, and it never really evolved beyond that at first.

The first time their dynamic changed was when Derek was shot by Kate. No matter what he might have said or threatened, Derek knew that Stiles could abandon him at any time he wished and he knew he wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it – he relied on Stiles, and as much as he wanted to think that it was because Stiles had no other choice, he knew that wasn’t really true, but he settled with the knowledge that he knew Stiles couldn't let anyone die, said person being Derek had nothing to do with it. The next time was when Stiles gave up on going to his first lacrosse match in favor of helping Derek find out whom the alpha was. He had felt the sadness coil around Stiles the moment he lied to Scott that _he’d be there, just a little late._ Derek once again shrugged it off; Stiles was only helping him for Scott.

But the time when their… whatever they had evolved and formed into something solid was when Derek found himself in the pool, paralyzed from the neck down and with Stiles the only thing keeping him from drowning; just mere minutes before Derek had threatened him by squeezing a rubber ball and turning it into jelly. Derek once again thought that the only reason that Stiles was keeping him above the water was because he needed Derek. It was the way that Derek had chosen to view everything after the death of his family; he didn’t trust anyone anymore. That word was something forever stripped from his character the day said trust got his family murdered. The only assurance he had was his usefulness, in one way or another, as long as he remained necessary to the person, then he assumed that they had to rely on him. That was how he formed links, how he bonded with Scott and with everyone else.

Stiles, however, never needed Derek. It confounded him, how a man who seemed so frail, skinny, and just a human could hold him above the water for three whole hours. It seemed impossible to him.

For the first time in a long while, it seemed to him that not everything was as clear as he assumed. Stiles didn’t need him; he was sacrificing his possibility of calling out to Scott for the sake of his life. But even then he found an explanation. No, the reason as to why Stiles wasn’t letting Derek drown was because once the paralysis wore off Derek would be able to help him. He was foolish to think, even if for just a second, that Stiles actually cared about him. It was all about his usefulness, and if he didn’t remind Stiles of that, he’d end up dead.

“You need me to survive, which is why you’re not letting me go.”

He said it with all the strength he could muster as he fished out the paralytic toxin little by little out of his body, and then Stiles did exactly the opposite of what Derek aimed for; he disentangled himself and went for the phone to call Scott. It was like everything slowed down, seconds turned to minutes as he drowned under the water, his vision blurring, confirming what he deduced about Stiles not really caring about him, descending until he hit the floor.

He was barely hanging on when Stiles dived towards him and lifted him above the water again.

Later that night Stiles paid him a visit, heart beating loud and fast, vibrating with anger and hurt, hands fidgeting and legs clumsy as always, pausing every few feet as if contemplating going back from where he came from. Derek was at the abandoned rail station, sitting on a half bent bench contemplating on who could be the creature. Boyd was taking care of Erica at her parents’ house.

“You know, I could have let you drown and waited for Scott. The possibility of me needing you to survive never even crossed my mind. I let you go to call Scott because I was angry at you.”

Derek had stared at Stiles for a while, he had seen his face after Scott had hung up on him, a mixture of disappointment and bitterness, yet why was Stiles telling Derek this?

“Why the hell can’t you trust me?”

“Well do you? Trust me?”

“How can I trust you when all I get is you threatening me with physical injuries or actually giving me said physical injuries?” He explained, flailing his arms and making different gestures to get the message through.

Then Derek exhaled and let it out.

“I’m sorry …and thank you.”

They were two words that Derek rarely uttered, they froze Stiles and silenced him, his mouth opened and closed a couple of times but nothing came out.

They trusted each other after that.

“Derek?” It was Lydia, she startled him out of his daze, making him blink a couple of times to regain his composure.

She sat near him besides the table, a large book hanging on her lap. “You look troubled.”

“Just tired.”

“Is it about Stiles?” she inquired, Derek wondered how someone so apparently shallow could be so articulately perspective.

“No,” he half mumbled, half growled. Lydia just rolled her eyes.

“Is it about the pack leaving Stiles to his life and that crap?”

“Yes.” It was a barely a whisper, just a small grunt. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re fools, you’re all fools.” She flicked her hair backwards, voice sincere and serious. Derek flinched up and looked at her, startled.

“You think what you’re doing is giving Stiles his life back, but in reality you’re just abandoning him. The pack is his life now, and you stripped that from him.”

“Being in the pack endangered his life too much, you remember-“

“Well at-least he had one, don’t you see how he became? He is hollow and detached from everything and everyone, you can’t expect him to go back to his normal life, that life is alien to him now.”

“He’ll adjust, Peter said-“

“Are you seriously taking Peter’s advice?”

“He might be psychopathic but he’s right, Lydia. Stiles doesn’t have someone to protect him like you and Allison do.”

She stared at him for a while, and Derek half-heartedly thought he won the argument.

“That can be changed.” She sighed, sat up, and left with the book and into the room with the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I managed to portray Derek well enough, I tried to keep his broody persona while keeping in mind that a-lot of time passed since S2's era and having a stable pack helped him a lot.
> 
> The story will kick start from next chapter, I think I have built the background sufficiently well enough by now.  
> Thank-you for all of those who are reading it :) x Any tips/comments are very appreciated. 
> 
> There may be errors/mistakes due to the fact it is still un-beta'd, if anyone spots any mistakes please inform me, (or if anyone wants to volunteer as a beta) I would be more than grateful towards any kind of help.
> 
> x


	5. Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to find a beta reader so everything should be revised/improved soon.  
> This chapter contains mildly explicit content, I may change the tag from Mature to Explicit later on.

Stiles was finishing his English assignment, he was grateful that Mrs. Smith gave him another day. He sighed exasperatedly when he finally finished it, tossing the files back into his bag. He opened up Smite and spent half an hour playing it, cursing every time that bitch of an Artemis killed him.

The moment Klaus logged in he immediately started quivering, the sudden jitters all over his body made him tense and nervous. He rubbed his hand a couple of times, exhaled and took a sip of coffee, hoping that its warmth would soothe him.

                Klaus: Hey

                Stiles: Hi buddy.

                Klaus: How are you doing?

                Stiles: Fine… Thanks.

                Klaus: Listen, sorry about how blunt I was the last time, hope you don’t think too low of me.

                Stiles: I’m not complaining here.

                Klaus: ;) I must have freaked you out a little.

                Stiles: You did. I’m not used to that.

                Klaus: I’m not either, promise. I was just trying something… new.

                Stiles: So I’m your new experiment?

                Klaus: A very successful one that I want to explore further. X

                Stiles: You’re cheeky.

                Klaus: Lol! Sorry. I guess. Listen I have to go because I have a guest, I will talk to you later.

                Stiles: Okay. Cya.

The rest of the week went by in somewhat like a blur for Stiles. He was talking more with Scott and the others, he actually did well on the assignment, and he cleared out the awkwardness with this Klaus. They talked more and about all sorts of things. He liked Klaus, talking with him relieved him and made him feel better, he wasn’t as glum anymore.

By Thursday, Stiles had told Klaus a lot about himself, about his group of friends, ADHD, and that his father was the Sheriff. It was all very brief of course, just one liners, but it was comfortable talking to Klaus, it was like unbuckling a load that had settled in his throat for too long. The thing which made him the most happy was the fact that he was giving himself another chance with Scott and the others, things finally started to feel right again. He gaped and grinned to himself, feeling like he actually accomplished something when he noticed that he had indeed slept for longer than seven hours without waking up fourteen times or twisting half of the bones in his body.

\---

“Hi Stiles.” The voice was unfamiliar and smooth.

It was Friday at lunch, Stiles looked up, half of a chicken nugget still in his mouth – that was not a pretty sight, for anyone - and saw what he assumed to be Klaus staring down at him with a small smile, rubbing the back of his head self-consciously. He gaped, mouth opening and closing a few times.

“Oh my god.” He immediately turned crimson red, looking around and noticing that Scott, Allison and all the others were looking at the both of them, and particularly at the new guy, which half of the cafeteria was eyeing, by the way.

Klaus grinned sheepishly and looked around, seemingly lost.

“Um, hey, sorry, um, you didn’t tell me you’re coming.” Stiles spluttered and stuttered throughout the sentence, making a fool out of himself with way too many gestures and flailing. Scott raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, this is Scott, Allison and the others that I’ve talked to you about.” He gestured towards them, rubbing the back of his head with the other arm and sighing dramatically in an attempt to make himself shut up.

Klaus smirked and nodded towards them in acknowledgement.

“Um, the headmaster asked me if I want someone to show me around, could you?”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

He got up from his chair and he eyed the others, a silent question as to whether it was all-right for them. Isaac looked lost, and the others just nodded, obviously confused. He grabbed his bag and left with Klaus, who seemed to be just an inch or two taller, out of the cafeteria while still earning varying degrees of inquiring expressions from the group.

“Okay so you have English, Chemistry, P.E and Economics with me, Scott, and some of the others.”

They stopped on the lacrosse field and sat on a bench.

“That’s great; the school looks nice, definitely nice.” Klaus sighed and relaxed on the bench, all the while staring intently at Stiles.

Stiles felt nervous under his gaze, but settled gradually.

“This was very unexpected,” he said after a couple of minutes.

“I’m sorry, kind of wanted to surprise you.”

“It worked wonderfully.”

“How long are you staying here?” he asked, curious as to whether it was just a vacation or more long term.

“Am I already boring you?” He pouted, slightly hurt, but Stiles could detect the smile threatening to break in.

“Of course not. I ask a lot of questions in case you haven’t noticed.”

Klaus laughed a little and they stayed quiet for another little while. The sky was cloudless and the sunlight was on their faces, but it wasn’t bothering them. It was soothingly warm, the rustling of the trees and the grunting of shrubs and scraps as they slithered across the ground calming the both of them.

“Are you sure your friends don’t mind that I’m keeping you?”

“No, they don’t mind.” Stiles couldn’t help the shift in his tone as he replied; hints of bitterness and hurt breaking through.

“I thought you were very close to them?” Klaus remarked a little later, curious.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Just a feeling.”

“Well, I’m not as close to them anymore.”

“What time does fourth period start?” Klaus asked, changing the subject.

Stiles looked at his watch and sighed. “Thirty seconds ago.”

“Am I going to get in trouble?”

“You have the new student jail card, and I have the helping new student card, we’ll be fine. It’s economics and the coach doesn’t mind. If it was Mr. Harris it would be a whole different story, stay away from that man…. He’s evil.” He said it with such conviction that it made Klaus’ eyebrows shoot up in horror, he chuckled.

“The coach?” Klaus asked, confused.

“Yes, our economics teacher is also our P.E coach, and P.E involves only lacrosse, you’ll be pretty great in it.”

“Do you play?”

“Yes, actually, I do. I used to be a bench warmer but the coach finally recognized the talent that is Stiles Stilinski.”

“So that _is_ your name!” Stiles jabbed him in his ribcage, earning a grunt and prompting them to burst into giggles as they made their way to class, brisk walking through the corridors.

They made it in an acceptable time and their respective out of jail cards played surprisingly well, although Stiles thought that it was only because Mr. Finstock didn’t want to waste his energy and time dealing with him.

Their last lesson was P.E and they practiced lacrosse as always. It turned out that Klaus played unbelievably well, movements swift and graceful. Stiles gaped when he managed to almost outmanoeuvre both Scott and Isaac.

Stiles managed to show off a little, he had built up his physique quite well during the alpha attacks and he started eating in abundance during the last week. He felt strong and vivid, and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. He managed to swiftly avoid and dodge the players coming towards him easily, his small physique compensating him with agility where it lacked raw strength. He was still clumsy, tripping randomly and stuttering through random movements, but it made him absolutely unpredictable. He scored twice, and when one is playing amongst werewolves – that is saying something.

They trailed to the showers once coach Finstock got bored enough to let them go (the lesson extended by at-least fifteen minutes, as always).

When they found themselves in the showers, Stiles couldn’t help but stare at Klaus’s body. Unlike most of the others, it was glorious and defined like one could only find in porn models or national athletes. He suspected that in few years it would even be worthy competition to Derek’s, or maybe not, because Derek was Derek. Klaus himself looked comfortable and in his element, rinsing his body with water and pushing his hands into his hair as he stretched. His body was slender with a slim waist, hard abs jutting out in an obscenely hot way that gave Jackson a run for his money. His skin looked fresh and smooth and he had a perfectly curved back and ass, lines carved out like that of a Greek god. What stood out the most were his pearl blue eyes which shined unnaturally bright, contrasting perfectly against his scruffy jet black hair which twisted in small spikes around his head, almost reaching his shoulders and down his forehead.

“Nice catch you got there,” Danny piped in, smirking as he moved out of the shower. Stiles flinched, it wasn’t the first time Danny had said something like that, they had grown more open with each other after Stiles had to explain to him that werewolves existed and his best friend used to be a lizard-like killer who paralyzed him in a gay bar. It was a very awkward and long conversation.

Stiles finished washing himself quickly, wanting to make sure that he avoided the relatively embarrassing possibility of him getting an erection in the showers – not that the others never did, but still. Dignity. Stiles was confident with his body, his abs had indeed bloomed out; not because he went to the gym, he was clearly too lazy for that, but having an alpha pack hunting you down can be a great source for physical exercising. He was quite satisfied with the fact that he now actually had biceps. His cheek bones became more prominent, his once round face now more curved and angular, although he’d probably blame that on the weight loss, he couldn’t deny having a thing for the two small veins and the angular V which trailed down from his lower belly and down to his crotch. He could describe himself as a cross from Almost Athletic to hot.

Thank god Klaus had turned before Stiles could look down _there;_ that would have made all efforts at keeping his own member flaccid useless. Especially since he remembered that it wouldn’t have been the first time he saw it, even if when he did see it, it was through black denim. Still.

He was currently fumbling his way through his shirt, still fidgeting and slightly flushed after one of the most arguably awkward showers he ever had to share. Klaus appeared behind him with just a towel wrapped around his waist and the same sheepish smile he was getting accustomed to. Up this close it was hard not to stare at Klaus, white pale skin, glistening azure eyes, jet black hair, and fresh, smooth skin. Stiles blinked rapidly, willing the daze away.

“Go out with me.” Klaus’ tone was easy and simple, accompanied only by a smile and obscene tantalizing eyes.

“Err…” He was holding his bag against his chest, slightly heaving; this did not happen to Stiles. An almost bare guy asking him out was not on his list of things he could deal with. And Stiles could deal with werewolves and geriatric psychopaths, so really.

“Okay.” Scott and Isaac may or may not have been listening. Stiles shot a sideways glance towards them and Scott jerked his head away so fast his bones cracked. He could barely hold back a smile and chuckled when Boyd rolled his eyes and manhandled them out of the showers and to the next class. Bless Boyd.

Only a moment later the same thing happened, Danny grabbed Jackson from his elbow, earning a loud groan, and strolled after Boyd.

Seriously.

“What about Saturday? I’ll pick you up, you’ll choose whatever restaurant you want – since I don’t know any, and then we can maybe watch a movie.” Klaus winked, he _winked,_ and pulled up his pants, zipping his jeans while still holding his gaze steadily upon Stiles.

“Oh crap, um, I can’t on Saturday. I promised my friends I’d go out with them and I haven’t in a while, so.” He rubs the back of his head, smile bashful.

Klaus’ smile fell momentarily.

“But I’m definitely up to it, next week maybe?”

“I’ll hold you to that. If you change your mind, just text me,” he whispered against his ear, and a single drop of water fell from his hair and onto Stiles’ shoulder, making his entire body shiver.

“I will.”

So Stiles definitely ranked Friday as one of the most eventful days of his life. When he went back home he couldn’t get his stupid shit-eating grin off his face, he strolled to the kitchen and opened up the fridge, opening up a carton of milk and pouring some for himself.

There was a small note from his father saying that he was held up at work and to not worry about food. Stiles sighed, he liked cooking (and by cooking he meant throwing stuff in the microwave and eating it), he picked two chicken breasts from the freezer and put them into the boiling water.

Around forty minutes later he found himself on the sofa watching Doctor Who, mouth filled with fries and a hand busy cutting a piece of chicken.

He went to his room and opened his laptop. He had no intention of doing any of his homework, homework was for Sunday evenings (preferably after eleven at night).

Later, a Skype message appeared. It was Klaus, he sent him his phone number.

I forgot to give it to you. Sorry x.

Stiles sighed, he didn’t know how to feel about Klaus. He liked the guy, he wasn’t sure if there was something not to like. But he couldn’t believe things happened in such a way, it was strange; adding a Skype contact and two weeks later ending up dating him? Too movie-like for Stiles, but then again, his life was a horror movie filled with werewolves.

Stiles knew he should be more paranoid about this, search everything about Klaus and learn and ask and be panicky, because that was Stiles. But he didn’t want to, and it came so easy, like a wave of serenity and happy dullness, the kind of feeling he got when he’s too tired or drunk to actually think things thorough. And maybe he shouldn’t think things thorough, maybe he shouldn’t have expected people to change for him, maybe the one who needed to change was him. This is what Stiles was doing.

\---

He woke up at eleven in the morning, apparently the Sheriff had a day off because he was looking down at Stiles, face a cross between confused and ’what the hell happened in this room, clean up!’

“Hey Dad,” he drowsed sleazily, voice rough from sleep.

“What time did you go to sleep, Stiles?” his dad asked, worried.

“Ten… I think.”

John’s eyebrows shot up, clearly misbelieving. “And you slept… for thirteen hours?”

“Yeaahhh,” he replied, easy and cheeky.

“Everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect Dad, thanks.”

The sheriff just walked out of the room after a couple of seconds, face still slightly dumbfounded.

“Dad!?”

“Yes son?”

“Is it okay if I go out with Scott and the others tonight? I won’t be too late.”

And then John’s face cleared up, he smiled. “No problem, just don’t get into too much trouble.”

Stiles spent the next three hours wondering what to wear. He started by opening his wardrobe and picking out every shirt which didn’t have some horrible image on it, apparently he only had very few plain shirts. He sighed and finally decided on the dark navy buttoned t-shirt and black drain pipes. He left them on his bed and looked around his room, which was a mess of flying papers, clean clothes, dirty clothes, ragged materials which one cannot call clothes, and other stuff Stiles could not categorize.

Two hours later his room was shiny and Stiles was a happy person. He sighed and dropped himself back on his bed – only to jerk back up within five minutes when he remembered he forgot to take his Adderall. He rushed to the bottle beside his laptop and opened it, dropping three pills onto the palm of his hands.

Stiles looked at the pills for a couple of minutes, and since he wasn’t feeling depressed or jittery he decided not to take them, even if his instincts told him to do so.

“Stiles?” Stiles had just finished taking a bath. Between playing smite, continent of the ninth, and going for a short run around the building four hours had passed and he had no intention of being late. Stiles dropped on the bed, towel wrapped around his waist and the clothes besides him. He wondered whether he should have invited Klaus to go out with them instead but was interrupted by Scott calling him.

“Yeah?”

“Um… Stiles, something happened and-“ Scott seemed to take a long breath before continuing.  “We’re not going out tonight.” Stiles’ smile fell.

“Ohh… what happened? Can I help?” he tried, pathetically.

“No, we can deal with it, just something to do with the Fey that we have to handle, I’m sorry its last minute…”

 “Yeah, it is okay, I have stuff to do anyways,” Stiles said, feigning nonchalance.

“Sorry, mate.”

“No problem.”

“Maybe some other time huh?”

“Yeah, why not. Next time,” Stiles said bitterly. If they didn’t want him, maybe someone who could actually lie should have called, but he guessed that he wasn’t worth the effort.

He held himself back from breaking down. Refusing to let himself fall down again, the overwhelming feeling of betrayal, hurt, and bitterness stung like deadly venom. Coursing throughout his entire body and paralyzing him on his bed and settling in his throat.

He couldn’t breathe properly, his throat ached and burned, dry and sore, when he swallowed a tingle of pain made him shiver. His mind raced with questions about Scott and the others.

Why were doing this?

Was he really this useless?

Why did they have to fool him? To deceive him like this?

He accepted them moving away from him, but the deceit settled low in his stomach and he gripped the sheet of the bed and tore it away, letting his energy flow out of his body and burn it into a crisp.

He chuckled; he turned Klaus down so that he could go out with his friends, his friends who used him and tossed him aside like he was a tool.

He blamed it on himself, it was his fault. His ridiculous exhibiting of clumsiness, jokes, and babbling made him look like he couldn’t be hurt by anything. He made himself look like a fool so that people wouldn’t see what was really inside and instead they were so blind as to believe that him being a fool was all there is to him.

They didn’t even notice that underneath all the nonsense, smiles, and carefree personality there was a sensitive guy too afraid to get hurt. Fuck them. Three years and they didn’t even bother looking deep enough.  His mind shifted to Scott. Scott had known him for so long. Too long. And he didn’t even realize any of this.

Stiles remained on the bed for a while, exhaling and inhaling slowly, trying to calm himself down. He was scared of the idea that he could feel this kind of bitterness towards them, this kind of hatred. It terrified him that even if for a mere second, he wanted to actually hurt them like they hurt him.

He went on his laptop and checked his Skype. There was Klaus’ phone number.

Stiles dialled.

“Yes?” a smooth, hazy voice answered.

“Um, Klaus, it’s me, Stiles.”

“Stiles? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, um, I was wondering if you’re still up for tonight.”

“Definitely. But weren’t you going to hang out with your group?”

“They won’t miss me.” He tried a light hearted tone; he hoped Klaus didn’t see through.

“I’ll pick you up in 45 minutes; could you give me the address?”

“I’ll send it to you.”

“I’ll see you soon, Stiles.”  

Forty minutes later, there was a knock on his door. Stiles was ready, perfumed and hair styled in a dishevelled, spiky look.

The date was incredible. They picked a nice looking restaurant on the main street of Beacon Hills, which was filled with shops and malls by day and restaurants and clubs by night. It was the only city-like part of town. They ate and the food was good, the restaurant was extravagant, curtains on every side, shining parquet floor, flowers placed alternatively between one curtain and the other, and chandeliers placed out throughout the restaurant, their light flickering and offering a dim yellow light throughout the place. There was music softly playing in the background and the smell of prepared food was wonderful.

It was a little magical, the atmosphere. His ache dwindled the longer he talked to Klaus. They chatted about everything and Stiles felt comfortable in his skin, he could talk to Klaus about whatever he wanted without earning dubious or weird looks. They talked about the games that they liked, the movies they preferred, their guilty pleasures, their weirdest moments, everything.

He exhaled loudly during a part of dinner, and a small tear trickled out of his eye. He was happy, comfortable, and the comfort that Klaus provided ripped his walls away and exposed how hurt he really felt.

Stiles smiled and blamed the onions; Klaus rose up and wiped it away with his fingers, kissing him lightly on his cheek and falling back to his chair, staring intently at Stiles, his gaze never faltering.

It stunned him. Made something inside of him flip and forget all of the pain, too mesmerized to think and hurt.

Somewhere during the night the heavy burning in his throat subsided, faded away into tingles of excitement, comfort, and seduction.

Afterwards, they took a small walk throughout the park. Klaus’ hand wrapped around him as they strolled at ease.

Stiles saw Jackson’s confident grin as he scored a strike and Scott and Allison in each other’s arms, content and smiling. He stared from the glass window of the bowling complex separating him from them. He gritted his teeth, hands coiling into a fist before sighing and continuing to walk.

Later, he kissed Klaus, not a peck of lips or a teasing taste, a full messy one with tongues and everything. It was hot and he was lost in it, lost in the feeling of being in Klaus’ Audi a5, with his tongue on Stiles’ neck as he felt every inch of his body.

He slept at Klaus’ apartment. He let Klaus open him up slowly, gently kissing him as he slid a finger, two, and a third into him. Pressing wet kisses all over his body, taking him in his mouth after edging him for what seemed like an hour with his hands, he stopped Stiles’ from reaching his orgasm. Wanting Stiles to cum only once he was inside him.

He felt the burning pain as Klaus penetrated his virgin entrance, slowly bottoming out, buried into him. The lube helped ease the pain of Klaus’ thickness, and when Klaus rammed into him relentlessly, eyes burning a bright purple glow which seemed mesmerizingly unnatural, hitting his prostate incessantly, his pain turned into insane pleasure.

After, Klaus soothed him for a long while, touching all the right places to ease him into a comfortable slumber. They slept in each other’s arms, a slow smile on both of their faces.

 


	6. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus and Stiles' relationship develops, the story takes a deeper look at Scott.

_Scott is on his knees, the floor is pitch black, endless like an abyss. Stiles stands in-front of him, tall and confident, his expression is blank, eyes hollow. He breathes in slowly; the smell of rusty metal dulls him further into his calamity. Stiles lowers his arm._

_Scott tries to move but something is holding him to the ground, it’s powerful, thick, and cold. When he tries to wiggle out of it something painful settles all over his body, paralyzing him. There’s a sick taste in his mouth, the repugnant taste one gets when sick. The room seems to be endless; the thick bright red mist everywhere blinds his sight._

_Stiles’ hand moves forward, fingertips settling on Scott’s chest, where his heart lies beneath flesh and bone, beating frantically. Stiles exhales, digs into the flesh, and his eyes narrow when blood starts gushing out. His fingertips go deeper, and when he wraps his arm around Scott’s now erratic heart, he smiles grimly._

Stiles’ eyes opened in a sudden jerk. He didn’t know where he was, the room was unfamiliar and it smelled of sex and flavoured candle wax. He recollected himself slowly, his senses still dazed from what seemed like an endless slumber. The dream he'd had had settled something low and heavy in his stomach, dark. It was about him and Scott - was he going to hurt Scott? Or was Scott going to hurt Stiles? He tried to remember the dream but his mind was a blank haze, he felt drunk with sleep, everything was a little foggy, and he couldn’t will himself to really _think_..

He figured he’d just wait until he woke up fully, he’d remember by then.

“Stiles?” The somewhat familiar, smooth voice galvanised him. It was Klaus, he was leaning against the doorway wearing an open black bathrobe and staring at Stiles with that smile he had gotten used to so quickly.

“Morning.”

“How do you feel?” He was taken aback for a moment, uncomprehending until he recognized the burn of soreness in his thighs.

“Peachy.” He struggled out of bed and rubbed his eyes.

Klaus smirked. “Want to shower with me?”

Stiles blushed, which was ridiculous, especially at this point. “Fine, I'll brush my teeth first. Morning breath and all.”

He grabbed the bathrobe lying on the night stand beside the bed. He put it on and moved to follow Klaus out of the bedroom. Now that Stiles could see the room more clearly, he figured that Klaus rented the apartment, and, by the looks of it, a very expensive one. Looking around, there  was a navy blue curtain covering the window on one side, only letting a few shafts of sunlight in. There was a large liquor cabinet in one corner and two night stands on either side of the bed, a lamp on one and a matching clock on the other.

Stiles recognized a chandelier adjacent to the door holding three long black candles, each of them letting out a blueberry scent that he had smelled while still lying on the bed.

They were in the bathroom, which had one average shower, a white fur carpet, a sink, and a cabinet. Everything was white and clean.

“The blue toothbrush is unused.”

Stiles had just finished brushing his teeth when it hit him.

“What time is it?” he called out, unsure of whether or not he really wanted the answer.

“Eleven,” Klaus said, waiting for the shower's water to warm up.

“Fuck! My dad is probably hyperventilating.”

“Want to call him?”

“Yeah, let me go grab my phone.” He rushed back to the bedroom and quickly dialled his father.

“Dad?”

“Stiles, where the hell are you!?”

“Sorry dad, I'm at a friend's house. Everything is fine; I just got a little tipsy and slept over.”

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, mostly of bottled up irritation.“Hey I’m almost eighteen, I can.” “You should have at least called, Stiles.”

“Sorry.”

“Is Scott giving you a lift home or should I?”

He wondered whether he should tell his father that he's not at Scott's, but he didn't think that that would help in keeping his father calm in anyway whatsoever.

“He'll give me a lift. Don't worry, Dad. See you.”

Stiles went back to the bathroom and realised that Klaus was in the shower. The glass was tinted with steam, making Klaus' body a smudge. He took of his robe and joined in.

“Thought you were never coming.” Klaus grinned as he pressed against Stiles and kissed him, locking their tongues together. It wasn't like the hot lust filled kiss like that of the previous night, this was slow, teasing, and passionate. Stiles loved both. Klaus moved on to such on his shoulder blades, and then prompted him to turn around. He leant against Stiles from behind, pressing him against the glass and tracing his back with kisses. Stiles let our a low moan, his voice stuttering and heart racing a little when he felt Klaus hard against him, rubbing himself between Stiles' cheeks.

Klaus moved back to gently bite his ears and Stiles turned around to lock them together in another filthy kiss. Klaus fell to his knees, inhaling the scent of Stiles' dick and teasing it with his tongue, licking long stripes from one end to the other. He finally took it into his mouth, bottoming it out and doing obscene things with his tongue which made Stiles moan shamelessly. Pleasure built up fast in his stomach and he was oblivious to the cold glass against his back. He came in Klaus' mouth.

“Are you up for it?” Klaus asked once he regained his composure. Stiles looked down and realised that Klaus was still hard and untouched.

“Yeah.”

He turned around again, and Klaus spread his ass cheeks wide and started licking around his hole, fucking into him with his tongue. By the third finger, Stiles was a wiggling mess. The only thing keeping him from collapsing was the shower's glass pressed up against him.

When he felt Klaus' head pushing against his entrance, he wondered idly how the hell Klaus was even capable of entering him. His cock was at least eight and a half inches and it's thickness spread him much wider than three fingers.

He breathed slowly, gritting his teeth as Klaus gradually bottomed in. It wasn't as painful as last night, but the only lube was the water and the pre-cum dripping off of Klaus' cock.

At four in the afternoon, Klaus drove him home, kissing him and driving off only after watching Stiles enter his house.

He noticed several missed calls from Scott but he didn't bother.

* * *

 

Stiles was seated at a table on his own. The lessons wouldn't start for at least another ten minutes and he had decided to listen to some music while he waited.

After a couple of minutes, he jerked when he heard Scott's voice. He had just entered the cafeteria and was now standing in front of him.

“Listen, Stiles, I'm really sorry about Saturday,” Scott started.

A surge of bitterness hung on Stiles' tongue and he was about to reply harshly, but he decided to hold it back. “It's okay. I found something better to do.” He smiled genuinely and didn't realise what he had said before it was too late.

“Oh...” Scott's confused face turned into that of hurt and it made something inside of Stiles twist in anger. _How dare he._

“You didn't return any of my calls,” Scott muttered.

“I was busy.” Allison and the others entered the cafeteria, all taking a seat at their usual spot, yet looking in Stiles' direction.

“Aren't you going to join us?” Scott asked, but he knew the answer.

“I'm waiting for someone.” Scott's brows furrowed momentarily, but at that instant Klaus entered the cafeteria, his vibrant blue eyes locating Stiles quickly. Stiles waved at him, grinning.

“Sorry I'm late.” Klaus smiled, arranging his black jacket.

“No problem. Good morning.” Stiles wasn't sure if Klaus wanted to keep whatever they had between them secret, so he resumed casually.

When Klaus moved closer to Stiles and pressed his mouth against his, Stiles responded eagerly. Everyone who knew Stiles stared at them in utter disbelief. Scott swallowed, turned, and left the cafeteria, not bothering to sit with Allison and the others.

He ran out of school and into the woods, leaning against a tree and letting his tears flow out. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop crying. He fell to the ground and cursed, keeping away from Stiles was difficult, but not having to was unbearable.

Scott thought that he could handle it, moving away from his closest friend. It was the right thing to do. He knew that. In a way, it was easy; he was so easily distracted by Allison and Isaac that keeping away from Stiles came almost naturally, he couldn't feel the difference.

But now that he looked at Stiles, it was like staring at a new person. He looked... better, stronger, and more confident, and yet there was something about him which didn't make him _Stiles_. Maybe he was being territorial, wanting Stiles to be his.

But even if he did move away from Stiles, Stiles still being there was still an option. There was still another way, a security blanket in case everything fell apart. Now, the idea of Stiles moving away from _him_ , ceasing to be there as an option, turning into someone that he no longer knew, terrified him. He smelled the bitterness off of Stiles, he saw the anger in his eyes. What was worse is that he knew to whom it was aimed at.

He had lost Stiles, and he only realized what that meant now.

After a couple of minutes, he had calmed down enough to start heading back to their first class, hoping that he wasn't too late. On the way, his phone rang. It was Deaton.

“Yes?” He hoped that his voice didn't give away the fact that he was crying.

“Scott, are you okay?” Well, so much for hoping.

“Yes, just sneezed, sorry.”

“Could you tell Stiles to come here after school? I need him to seal the elixir.”

Scott groaned, “Do you _really_ need him?”

“This time I really do. Sorry, is it a problem?”

“No, I'll ask him.”

Scott went back to his first class, English. Stiles and Klaus were in the back, talking to each other, completely lost in their own world. He wasn't sure what to think of Klaus. He appeared to be nice and sweet, but something was off about him. His instincts made him aware of the guy but he knew that was probably just his jealousy.

It was during practice when he saw it. Scott outmanoeuvred most players easily until he got close to the adversary’s goal point, then the only one left to pass was Klaus. He thought that by shifting sideways at the very last moment that he'd be able to dodge him easily, but instead, Klaus predicted his movement and they bumped into each other. He panicked, knowing that the hit would injure Klaus badly. However, both of them recoiled with the same amount of force, the two of them ending up sprawled on the ground. He rose up quickly, worried about Klaus, but Klaus was fine. In fact, he stood up nearly as fast.

It was then when he saw it. Stiles, Boyd, and Isaac were rushing to them, frantic, but Klaus' eyes were a bright purple, shining unnaturally bright – it was only for a couple of moments, by the time the others arrived it was gone. He shrugged, thinking that it was a trick of the light. He felt his bones ache all over his body, yet Klaus seemed to be perfectly fine.

“Are you all right?” Scott dared to ask.

“Yes, I'm fine. What about you?”

“I'm fine.” His body went cold when he saw the look that Stiles gave him, not that he was the only one. Boyd was pretty disappointed too. Isaac, on the other hand, was a cross between confused and proud.

They played another round, Stiles, Klaus, and Danny on one team and Scott, Boyd, and Isaac on the other. For the first time, he truly felt like Stiles was an adversary, and not a friend. Scott hesitated a first, but then he got a chance to get the ball and he took it. He searched for Klaus, watching him approach with deadly agility. Part of him wanted to test Klaus again, so he moved, using his own agile movements to lure Klaus to him. Scott thought that he had succeeded when suddenly Stiles appeared in front of him, taking the ball from him in an instant. His agility and grace baffled him. He knew that Stiles was fast, but he was not graceful; Stiles was clumsy and unpredictable and until now, Scott could predict all of his movement thanks to his heightened senses.

The match finished with Stiles scoring his second goal. Scott followed Stiles and the others into the locker room.

“Stiles?” Scott approached him after changing. He didn't know if he should being the Klaus thing up, but at least he had Deaton's request as an excuse.

“Yeah?” Stiles continued dressing, and the lack of attention made something inside of Scott ache.

“Deaton needs you to help him finish that _thing_.” He wasn't sure if Klaus could hear him, but he didn't want to take chances.

“I'll stop by tomorrow.”

“He kind of needs you urgently.”

“Well, I said I'll stop by tomorrow,” he said again, his voice deep as he finished and stared straight at Scott.

“You're really angry with me, aren't you?”

“Whether you believe it or not, this has nothing to do with your or the pack. I have other priorities now.”

“Klaus?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Why are you trusting him so easily?”

“You really are making the idea of breaking my own fist to punch you in the face appealing. Besides, when you guys failed me, he was there. He was there when I saw you guys bowling on Saturday too.”

Scott's eyes widened, realization dawning on him. “Stiles-”

“No, really, Scott. I got the memo regarding the fact that I'm no longer part of the pack, but that was a new low.”

“I-”

“You know there's nothing worse in the world than making someone believe that they have a chance when they really don't.” Stiles turned and left before Scott could say anything.

* * *

 

“There's something wrong with Klaus,” Scott whispered to Allison during Chemistry on Tuesday. He had spent the last day thinking about what had happened in practice with Klaus.

Allison tilted her head towards him, confused. “Like what?”

“I don't know, but Stiles was acting differently. It's... I can't explain it.”

“Different?”

“He was really cold to me. But that might be because he saw us on Saturday.”

“What?” Allison's eyes bulged, sighing exasperatedly. “Well, no wonder he was pissed off if he did,” she concluded, expression falling.

“He saw us while he was with Klaus, on a date. I think they already...” His face contorted and he used his hands to imitate the gesture of 'sex' without actually saying the word. Allison raised an eyebrow. “I could smell it off of him.”

“Well, maybe he did find someone, like Peter said.” She remained collected. Although she could have dealt with being unaware of the fact that Scott could smell those kinds of things.

“That's the problem, Stiles doesn't just do that with anyone. I ran into Klaus in practice.” Allison flinched.

“Is he okay?”

“That's the point, he brushed it off. It was like hitting another werewolf, only I think that I was more hurt than he was,” he explained, now aware of the murderous glances being daggered towards him by Mr. Harris.

“McCall, are you going to perhaps join the lesson any time soon? Or would you prefer it if we let you carry out your own lecture?”

Scott sighed slowly. “Sorry...” he muttered, falling back into his chair, a pass away from a slouch.

Not forty-five seconds passed before a small note was passed onto his desk with Allison's neat handwriting.

“What are you going to do?” He glanced back at her. From her expression, he assumed that she was aware that he was planning something, and he was; Stiles was still his closest friend, if they were really about to drift away, he wanted to know that Stiles was with someone good and safe. He wanted to confront Klaus, and he knew exactly where.

* * *

 

“Take me to the woods,” Klaus said as they hopped in Stiles' jeep. Stiles activated the screen wipers to clean the view from the dampness.

It was almost two months into winter. The clouds were full and thick, covering the sky in a dark shade of blue. The air was sticky and cold.

“Why would you want that?” Stiles asked, rubbing his hands together.

“There are no woods where I come from. It will be fun.” Stiles was momentarily distracted by Klaus' breath fogging the still air.

“Fine.” He reached to the back of his jeep and pulled out a dark blue jacket.

“Do you want to stop by your apartment and grab a thicker jacket?” Stiles asked, looking at Klaus, who kept smiling.

“Nah, this one is fine. Besides, I'm used to the cold.”

They rode out to the entrance of the woods closest to Stiles' house. They jumped the old wooden fence – which really did nothing to keep anything in or out – and started to walk into the woods. Their feet shuffled through the detritus and Stiles could feel the steady pressure of wet soil under them; they were going to get dirty. Stiles didn't really care.

The pine boughs, tree palms, and leaves were weighed down by the rain, covering the sky almost completely. Only a few shafts of light managed to break in. They were lost in their own world as they walked and raced through the curved forest paths, oblivious to the fact that the lights dimmed as the sun slowly set.

They threw water and small seeds at each other like silly kids. The branches bent and broke as they hopped from one another across puddles of water. Klaus tripped over a slippery log and Stiles, in an attempt to hold him, ended up falling too. They laughed through their cursed as the clean, cold water quickly seeped through their clothing. They lay there, surrounded by vines, roots, and huge purple bushes, gazing up as the last shafts of light faded.

They both sighed, and after a while Stiles broke into a fit of giggles again. He knew that he will probably get a cold from this later, but he was too happy to worry about that. The earthy smell of soil, damp trucks, the odd sour flavour of pine trees, musk, and the sickly smell of wood rot drugged them into a hazy state of serenity.

They listened to the sounds of rustling animals in the under brush, and the rustling, rapid movements made Stiles remember all of the times that he ran through these woods, running from the alphas and towards his home – once, he didn't make it.

Water landed on them, one drop after another. At first, they thought that it was rain. Then they noticed that it was the water dropping off of the leaves from atop the tallest trees masking the sky. Stiles felt an odd sensation of innocence. He didn't have to lie to his father about this, his dad was fine with him dating guys. He didn't have to be fake anymore.

The awareness that he was finally free crept into him like waves of ice and pure chill, cleansing him of all of the troubles that had fogged his brain for so long. Klaus turned and moved on top of him, settling his legs between Stiles' and they kissed; long, passionate kisses that induced a feeling of drowsy, easy slumber.


	7. Eye of the beholder

“Derek?” Mrs. Grey startled him out of his thoughts.

“Yes. What was the question?”

“There were no questions, just you - and talking,” she added, smiling. Derek had been going to Mrs. Grey for over three months; she was Lydia’s aunt and a psychologist. The first time Lydia suggested that he visit a shrink was when the pack had decided to organise a small gathering in the newly refurbished Hale house, their first ‘house-warming party’. Derek sat in the backyard alone drinking Jack Daniels while the others drunkenly danced and did all sorts of silly things.  Derek laughed at the idea, scoffing, and then threatening to maim her.

The second time, he was locked in the small room upstairs. He had decided to dedicate it to his family; it was filled with all of the family possessions that Derek still had. He was the only one with access to it, and when things got to be a little too much, he decided to go up there and vent out.

When he left the room, Lydia was waiting for him with two glasses of alcohol, one for her and the other for Derek. He tried to compose himself, hoping the fact that he had been crying didn’t show. Joana, Lydia’s older sister, was gorgeous, beautiful, and kind – she would have been a perfect partner for him. Nevertheless, he couldn’t open to up to her, flinching from her tentative touching, her gentle arm sent shivers through him, shivers which reminded him of too many things.

This time, Lydia didn’t suggest anything. She simply demanded, and he nodded solemnly.

He looked up at Mrs. Grey, meeting her gaze. “I’m trying to forget about someone, to move on from them and get them out of my mind, but I cannot.”

“Why do you want to move on from them?”  
“Being with this person puts –“ he struggled to find the right word. “It causes a lot of problems for them, a lot of trouble.”  
“Do you want to tell me more?” He looked around the room, embarrassed.

“Okay. So give me an analogy.” He exhaled slowly, thinking up of a situation.

“There’s a group of people, their job puts their lives at stake, but they are professionals; they are trained. It’s their life and they do not have a choice.”

She nodded, urging him on.

“Then, there’s this guy, who is smart, and intelligent, and kind, but he isn’t like them. Their choice of life… I think it disgusts him. Yet he still helps them, cares about them a lot. He sacrificed a lot for them, yet he isn’t trained, he isn’t a professional. He keeps sharing all the dangers they have with none of their benefits, with none of their skills.”

“I understand. You seem to care about him,” she mused.

“Yes.” He flinched at how quickly he replied. He wasn’t aware of just how easily words slipped through his mouth with Mrs Grey.

The room was white, there was a large window overlooking the street on one side, a cabinet full of books and files on the other, and the desk separating the two of them. It was more like a table, all they needed was food and it could look like two people dining.

“Have you talking to him… about joining the profession?”

“No, but someone already asked him whether he wanted to join. There was a part of him that did want it, but a more significant part of him found it monstrous.”

“So now you’re trying to leave him to his own life, to let him go.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Derek stared at her, baffled.

“Because it’s not good for him. Haven’t you been listening?”

“So this guy finds your life choice repulsive, he gets hurt repeatedly, unlike you he has no obligation to stay, yet he remains with you guys.”

“Yes.”

“So do you really think that pushing him away is what he wants?”

“It may not be what he wants, but it’s what is best for him.”

“How is he feeling about this?”  
  
“They say he changed, he fought with Scott. He seems distant, angry. He’s acting reckless. I don’t know why, I thought this would help him.” He stares down at the floor.  
  
“Derek, you told me he sacrificed everything for you guys, correct?”  
  
He nodded. “He sees you as family, even if what you do is dangerous for him, hurts him, even if he doesn’t want to do the same.”  
  
Derek nodded again.

“So after all that, you choose to push him away. Wouldn’t you feel angry, if someone you cared about more than anything in the world moved on from you without a blink of an eye?”  
  
Something inside Derek’s chest tightened. Could he be Stiles’ Kate?

“Is there anyone else like him in this group? Someone else who doesn’t have this kind of profession?”  
  
“Yes, but they are all well protected.”  
  
“Why isn’t he? I thought you guys cared about him.”  
  
“We do, we do. But Scott has Allison, Lydia has Jackson… he doesn’t…”

“He could have you.” Derek snorts.

“I’m exactly what he shouldn’t have.”

“You care about him. Doesn’t he care about you?” His mind flashes to the memories they had together.

To the pool.

The abandoned railway station.

Stiles’ words.

His heartbeat.

“Yes. He does” It’s a whisper.  
  
“So, I think that it’s your decision whether he can be safe or not.”  
  
“I’m…” He looks away. “Broken,” he mumbles.  
  
“Maybe, but you’re fixing yourself up and he is breaking down.”  
  
“That’s why Stiles needs someone strong, someone solid. Not me.”  
  
“Or maybe he just needs you to be strong enough to let him in. So that you can fix each other. The question is, will _you_ be strong enough?”

* * *

 It was Sunday, the week passed by like a surreal dream. Stiles managed to avoid talking with the rest of the group, and he didn’t have time to go to Deaton’s. He had spent every minute of every day with Klaus. Now, they were on their second date. Klaus looked happy, Stiles was smitten. They sat on one of the benches at the town’s plaza, under a willow tree; Stiles’ head was lying on Klaus’ shoulder. They weren’t making out. They weren’t even talking. They just breathed together, trying to match each other’s rhythms.

  
“That movie was weird,” Klaus deadpanned after a while. Stiles giggled.

“It was grotesque, seriously, a half severed breast and a huge chunk of meat flopping at the underside of that woman’s leg was _not_ what I would call romantic.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“You totally didn’t go to the bathroom on the verge of throwing up,” Stiles mocked, sarcasm dripping off his voice. Klaus nudged his ribs playfully.

“I went to buy nachos!” he said defensively.

“Right,” Stiles continued, teasing.  
  
Klaus pouted.   
  
“Oh come on, the nachos were good, I liked the whole idea of me getting fed.”  
  
Klaus smiled, satisfied.  
  
“Even if you missed my mouth three times, I ended up with cheese all over my face.”  
  
“It was dark!”  
  
“Really, worst excuse ever, you did it on purpose. You never miss when it’s another thing you want to-“ Stiles ended up with another kick in his ribs.  
  
“That hurt!” He feigned his best injured expression, only managing to earn a glare from a blushing Klaus.

“Okay, okay, sorry. You have very good feeding skills, okay?”

“Okay.” Now they kissed, and really, at this point Stiles couldn’t help but doing just that.

“I want an ice cream,” Klaus muttered between pecks of lips.  
  
“It’s December.”  
  
“So?” Klaus asked, uncomprehending.

“It’s cold! I’m not even sure there’s anyone selling ice cream right now!”

“You’re no fun.”  
  
“How dare you! I’m the king of fun! I’m like that guy who spices everything up with his sarcasm, the hunter of dead bodies severed in half-“ That earned a raised eyebrow from Klaus. “-long story, but really, I’m full of excitement.”

They ended up with two vanilla ice creams in their hands, walking around like lunatics, both nudging the tip of the ice cream against each other’s noses and licking the cream off. It was mildly weird, also extremely dirty and hot.

They kissed in a dark alley; Klaus let Stiles take control, his hands touching every inch of Klaus’ body. They locked tongues, devouring and tasting each other’s cold vanilla flavoured mouths, ending up panting with lust and need. Stiles pressed into Klaus, who ground himself against the alley’s wall. Their faces were barely an inch apart, breathing air which smelled like musk, vanilla, lust, and refreshing chillness.

The streetlamps flickered, there was a dog rooting through the garbage, and the debris on the floor were being slowly shuffled away by the wind, the iron bars and metal cans clattering as they were swept away. It was very dark, past midnight, but they didn’t care. Instead, they kept on stealing swift pecks of kisses, as well as longer and deeper ones which took their breath away and left them breathing heavily against each other’s faces.

“Let’s go into the woods,” Klaus suggested.

“No, not in the woods, not at this time, Klaus.”  
  
Stiles was still pressing into him, hands clutched to the wall around Klaus’s head, pinning him against the wall, his knee pressing up against his crotch tentatively. But then Stiles backed away, both dislodging.

Klaus smiled. “Why are you so afraid of the woods?” He cupped Stiles’ chin, lifting his head up and staring right into his eyes.

“You have no idea...” Stiles tried to tell him, but his voice came hoarse.  
“Shh, shh.” Klaus pressed a finger against Stiles’ lips.

“Stiles, trust me. You’re with me. You shouldn’t be afraid of anything.”  
  
“It’s dangerous.”  
  
“I know.”  
“We could get hurt.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Will you trust me?” Stiles’ breath hitched, a clot of panic tugging in his throat, but he felt too dazed, he was losing control, he tried to fight the feeling of giving in, then he remembered;

_“Do you want the bite?”_

_Give in, Stiles. For once, just give in. Don’t think._

A voice from deep within told him, it was familiar yet unnatural; it was as if Klaus was speaking to him through his eyes.

He nodded.

They went into the forest, walking onto a barely visible trail snaking through the dark undergrowth. The light of the full moon made the wet leaves shine, lighting the trail with a mild tinted glow of light green. The light casted a sheet of silver across the trees and bushes and patches of green on the ground, everything was shining almost surreally. Stiles felt like he was on ecstasy, all of the colours were ignited. When he looked up, he could see small patches of the clear sky filled with stars in between the tree branches. The usually grey shadows were pitch black, the leaves shone with a light of their own, reflecting an illuminating blue and green everywhere. Stiles could hear the undergrowth cracking, the grass and weeds sliding against their legs. The sighing of the wind, the rustling of the twigs, and the leaves getting swept away along the trails were the only sounds present besides their heavy breathing. It all sent a shiver up Stiles’ spine, making him lean into Klaus for comfort and warmth as they made their way through the creaking branches and broken logs. They settled against a tall trunk. This time, Klaus trapped Stiles between himself and the tree, arms enclosing him from both sides, pressing him against the tree, a gentle smile on his face. They were completely alone apart from the sound of the bees humming and the crickets churring. The harmonic breeze of the wind against logs and trees created a distinctive sound like that of wolves howling.

Klaus leaned in, eyes darkened by lust, and kissed Stiles. Their mouths pressed together, deep and passionate. They moaned and whimpered. Stiles was too lost to notice the vibrant purple glistening from Klaus’ eyes, yet then again, Klaus didn’t notice the vibrant red eyes observing them.

red eyes faded into the darkness, vision blurring between lines of fear and blame. Derek ran into the woods, giving into the full moon, howling in pain and losing himself to his sadness. Shattering helplessly and completely.

* * *

 

Stiles wasn’t sure what his magic really meant. Deaton tried to rely on him as little as possible. Mrs. Morell, on the other hand, revelled in the idea that Stiles had magic. One was scared of it, the other was obsessed with it. It was a little like the White and the Red Queen in Wonderland fairy tales.

Stiles never really got the chance to truly learn it, sure he could channel energy into objects, amplify their attributes. He could even channel his energy into specific parts of his body, make them stronger, or function better. But it was all so very subtle, alone like a fire struggling helplessly against the cold winds, no warmth close enough to help it survive. As he drifted away from the pack it weakened, becoming fainter and fainter until it grew to being almost useless, even that one special trait just didn’t shine anymore.

Stiles was showering when all of the water droplets froze and hovered in the air, stretched bubbles of water hanging between the air and the ground. He was shocked, glancing around in panic looking for what caused such a thing until he realized it was him. He had decided to take a shower when he woke up with a headache, unsure when exactly he had returned home, everything was foggy.

He took deep breaths and remembered what Mrs. Morell, Amanda, taught him; Deaton had refused to teach him how to project energy into objects without actually touching them – Stiles never really understood why. He drew back his energy into his own body, relishing the familiar but distant rush it always caused. It felt like thick, cold cream seeping through his skin.

Stiles dried himself off and went downstairs to eat something. It was ten in the morning and he figured he’d have to skip classes for the day. He prepared a cup of coffee and opened a stash of biscuits; he was starving. Stiles glanced around; everything felt somewhat hazy and unfamiliar – too still. He looked down, his knees weren’t moving. There was no shaking, no instinctive reflex to fidget, move his fingers, tap against the table, or stand up and pace around – he was still. His eyes bulged, shocked; there was nothing different about the room, _he_ was the one different.

Maybe it was the fact that he did magic. He still couldn’t figure that one out, how the hell was he able to do such an advanced projection of energy? It was beyond his understanding, even when he was with the pack, including Deaton and Amanda, he _still_ was incapable of doing that. Not on his own.

Maybe it was a one-time thing, a spurt of luck, and maybe that was why he was so exhausted and everything was foggy. Now that he thought about it, he could barely make out what happened yesterday – everything was a haze.

Stiles settled for calling Klaus – he probably knew everything. Stiles hoped that he didn’t do something stupid like falling and knocking himself out, because he had to admit, it wasn’t _that_ far-fetched. He was Stiles after all. He finished munching on the last bite of chocolate from the biscuits his father had left (his father wouldn’t admit it, but they were from Melissa).

Klaus didn’t respond, the call went straight to voicemail. Stiles hissed, something in his stomach twisting at the idea of being clueless. He stood up and headed to his bedroom, but as he climbed the stairs a sudden rush of dizziness settled over him and he felt like fainting, his vision contorting and causing the stairs to swirl unnaturally. He headed to his room and decided to rest it off, settling on his bed. He briefly wondered whether he should go and ask Deaton about it, he needed Stiles’ help after all.

* * *

 

Tuesday passed like a blur, alien and uneventful. Sunday remained a smudge in Stiles’ memory, almost as if it never happened. Stiles tried calling Klaus and checked whether he was online on Skype, but it was futile. The disapproving looks from Scott and the others were like stones thrown at a house trying to build itself. He wondered why he even went to School that day, without Klaus he went back to being the pitiful abandoned guy. He felt angry and weak, he looked pale and fragile, when he inhaled, there was no smell – the smell of Klaus was gone.

What had happened? He needed to think, he desperately had to find out why he was so disorientated, but everything was moving on out of his control. He couldn’t control his body. Feeling like a zombie, he went to classes; he sat down at lunch, sat at that table by himself, staring at his food with nothing but nausea. He stared at the entrance hoping that Klaus would show up.

After school, he drove to Klaus’ apartment. He knocked on the door twice but no one opened it. Stiles went back to his jeep, resting his head on his arm, lying on the steering wheel with exhaustion. On his ride back home, a dark twisted feeling crept inside of his stomach, he felt dehydrated, his throat so sore that it ached, yet when he gulped down the water, the ache didn’t disappear.

* * *

 

“I’ve been expecting you all-week,” Deaton said as Stiles got in the clinic, sighing exasperatedly. It was Wednesday; Stiles still hadn't heard anything from Klaus so he decided to finish whatever business he had with Deaton after school. Trying to avoid thinking about all of the reasons as to why Klaus wasn’t showing up.

The sealing process was straightforward. Deaton and Stiles clasped each other’s hands and Stiles channelled his energy while Deaton muttered cryptic words in Latin. The muddy green liquid inside the tube gradually turned to a dark purple.

“Okay, it’s done.”

“That was quick,” Stiles said.

“Actually, we spent almost twenty minutes doing this, and I’m surprised, since I predicted  that it would take two hours.”  
  
“Your math skills are getting sloppy, Deaton,” Stiles teased.

“That or your magic is becoming stronger.”

“About that…” Stiles started, he wasn’t sure how to continue; usage of magic was a touchy subject with Deaton. “On Monday, I was in the shower.” Deaton’s eyebrows shot up. “And, um, I was showering and doing what a normal showering person would do, and, dude, all of a sudden, all of the water around me froze.”  
  
“Froze?”

“Well, not froze in the turning into ice in mid-air kind of way. Just. All of the droplets hovered in the air, like levitation.”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“Would I be talking to you if I did? I wasn’t even aware I was the one doing it.”  
Deaton brought a hand to his chin, rubbing it - baffled.

“Well it could be possible that you’re getting stronger, it’s usually a much slower progress. Have you been training? Or taking some kind of supplements?”

“Like drugs? No, definitely not. Well, apart from Adderall and my other ADHD medicine.

“Have you always been taking them?”

"Yes-“ His voice waved through the word, suddenly the realization that he haven’t been taking his ADHD and Adderall pills for over a week dawned on him. He panicked, fidgeting and tapping his fingers against his thigh incessantly.

“Stiles – Is everything all-right?”

“Yes, do you need me for anything else? I have stuff to do.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, trying to remain nonchalant.

“You can go. Thank you.” Deaton smiled, yet Stiles was out in a matter of seconds. Getting into his jeep and rushing back to his house as fast as he could. He felt his stomach twisting with the sudden nausea that came with panic and fear.

He hopped out of the jeep and entered his house, his shaking and his panic not allowing him to insert the door keys on the first attempt. He opened his mouth to curse but instead he felt the bile of vomit threatening to come up, he pushed against the door, finally getting in and rushing upstairs to the bathroom.

* * *

 

Derek was on his third bottle of Sambuca, Vodka, and something else he couldn’t recognize anymore. He was sitting in the library, head buried in one arm while the other was holding the liquor. It was around two in the morning and he was a complete and utter wreck. It had been four days since he went to check the woods to see whether any of the wolves were out of control. It was a routine more than anything – Derek knew he didn’t have to worry.

When he saw Stiles hunched up against a tree, lost in blind passion with another guy, he felt like someone had hit him with a wrecker ball, breaking him completely.

It was all gone so instantly, his resolve shattered. He backed away slowly, shaking with disbelief and ran into the woods in a frenzy of rage and pain.

He spent the next three days trying to hold himself together, listening to Scott and the others talk about how Stiles changed. Talk about Klaus, Stiles' _boyfriend_ , about how close they were, about how Stiles smelled of Klaus everyday. It felt like he was drowning, and he couldn't hold onto anything.

Scott said that he was suspicious of Klaus, but Derek knew that Scott was just trying to incriminate the guy, to give them a reason to tear that guy out of the picture.

_"Scott, you have a lot of control by now, you probably unconsciously let your muscles loose and let yourself be slammed down."_

Everyone agreed with Peter's words.

A part of Derek wished that they hadn't.

Now, he was a drunken mess in his library. The only light in the room was from that of the moon, reflected in shafts of glowing green from the trees.

He heaved incessantly, sobbing for the umpteenth time. He glanced at a reflection in the window, Derek tried to smile politely at it, yet the reflection just stared blankly right through. He was alone, and he gave in to the possibility of breaking down for a little while. He will get up again tomorrow, he’ll be the alpha. But now, now he’ll be weak and he’ll loathe himself.  
  
For letting his weakness ruin his family.

For letting his weakness let the only one who could fill that emptiness inside of him get away too.

No matter how powerful he became, he remained so utterly weak.

The guy in the reflection was broken, he fell to his knees.

He had thought that he was going to be strong enough for this. That him letting Stiles go would make him powerful once again, would make him different from the guy who was seduced so easily all those years ago.

Instead, letting Stiles go showed him that he remained exactly the same stupid fool. He only realized it now that Stiles was not an option for him anymore.

Some of the leaves shuffled and Derek jerked his head up to look at the window. He rose up, grasping the table and holding onto it for balance – he drank _way_ too much. Peter was there, walking through the narrow path and disappearing into the woods. Derek’s brows furrowed, confused. What was Peter doing at this time?

He collected himself quickly, extending his claws and cutting into his right arm’s flesh just to make himself bleed and trigger the healing process – his senses cleared out rapidly, his body flushing and burning out the alcohol.

He walked out of the library and went through the backdoor, following onto the narrow path. He looked at the tinted library window from outside; nothing was visible from this angle. Derek walked further onto the trail, a spark of doubt crept up and he wondered whether he imagined it, but he kept going. He slowed down when he heard voices, quiet mutterings between two men; one was Peter's, while the other's was smooth and husky.

“I'm testing the limit of our bond, I need to see how he copes without me,” the smooth voice explained.

Derek rested behind a tree, halting completely.

“So you’re leaving him alone for a week. Then what?” It was Peter’s voice.

“If the result is satisfactory, you can move on with your plan.”

“And he will be stronger? Under your complete control?”  
  
“Yes.”

Derek dared to take a look, wanting to identify who the other person was.  
  
“Will you be able to drain him of all his energy?”  
  
“I don’t want to, keeping him alive is much better.”

Something about the man was oddly familiar to Derek, and he inhaled sharply when he realized who he was. A flashback of eyes glowing purple entered his mind, he had seen Klaus' eyes shining purple as he kissed Stiles. Derek had thought that it was his imagination; he was too shocked to think rationally, but now it was unmistakable.

“That was not part of the plan,” Peter hissed.

“All you want is to kill the alpha and take his place, Stiles is my business.”

Then Derek’s eyes widened at the realization. Klaus was the Fey, he was targeting Stiles.  
  
“For a supposedly heartless seducer you seem to care about the boy.” Peter’s voice was borderline amused.  
Derek wanted to lurch at him and kill him on the spot. His hands turned into fists, but he willed himself to calm down. He needed to be smart about this.

Klaus didn’t move, remaining absolutely impassive to Peter’s remark.

“So you prefer draining him slowly and gradually? Cruel.”

Suddenly, Klaus' hand shot up and grabbed Peter by his neck, choking him and lifting him up into the air with a ridiculous ease. Peter struggled visciously, trying to remove the unnaturally pale hands that looked like they were made of marble.

“You know nothing about the Fey, do not play smart when you’re ignorant.”

The fey - Klaus -threw Peter across the ground, causing him to cough violently before erupting into a low laugh. “You bastard, a couple of weeks ago you were a starving corpse. I allowed you to bond with me, to draw enough power from me to be able to survive and use your-”

“I will repay you. Soon my bond with Stiles will ignite. He draws his power from me and I draw power from him. You'll be able to draw power from us too. You'll be stronger, much stronger.”  
  
“How do I know that you’ll keep your promise? I know that you’re the one who controls the bond. You can choose whether or not we share our power, strengthening each other or draining the both of us to become ten times stronger yourself.”  
  
“Unlike you, Peter, I’m not a deranged monster; I have every intention of keeping my word.”

“Well, once I become Alpha you and Stiles can leave and do whatever you want.”

Klaus nodded.

“I guess that’s what you want, to have Stiles all for yourself,” Peter chuckled.

Klaus tensed, irritated.

Peter moved closer, his voice now a whisper. “It must be absolutely horrible, knowing that he can never be completely yours on his own free will – that there will always be a part of whatever you have with Stiles that's just a fake delusion.”

Klaus looked away from Peter and stared down while the older man slowly made his way back to the Hale house. Derek hid quickly, and once Peter was out of sight he fell to the ground, his back against the tree – aghast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to start tying up the loose ends. :) 
> 
> Some of you will find the idea of Derek going to a shrink unrealistic, however one must take in consideration that this takes place AFTER the alpha pack saga ( season 4 era ], I think that someone who had undergone the kind of trauma Derek did needs much more than just close friends to heal. I tried to make it as fluent as possible. Feel free to tell me what do you think about it. 
> 
> Chapter still unrevised, there may be errors. Feel free to tell me about any you find. I appreciate all tips, comments and suggestions =)
> 
> Also a big thank to all those who commented, viewed, bookmarked or left kudos to the story. I love you guys <3!


	8. Faltering Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Snow is a magical blanket, it hides what's ugly and makes everything beautiful."

Stiles woke up at two in the morning, his whole body ached and he felt ill – a metallic sick taste on his tongue that gave him a feeling of nausea. His clothes were sticky against him and he was sweating. It was raining heavily, and the popping of hail against the window created a loud stomping noise. 

He tried to get out of bed but a sudden rush of dizziness stunned him. Everything whirled around and he fell back onto the sheets, the sudden rush making him even sicker. After a minute of staring at empty air, waiting until he didn’t feel like throwing up, he stood up and moved to the drawer on the other side of the room. His walk was wobbly like he was drunk with fatigue, or sickness.

He rested on it for a while, he did take his Adderall the previous day, double the normal dose, yet it was doing nothing but aiding his nausea and dullness. When he had gotten home he had rushed to the bathroom and had thrown up, the intensity robbing him of all his strength and prompting him to crawl to his bed and faint.

Stiles moved slowly towards the bathroom, leaning against the wall the entire way until he made it, falling to the floor – hands resting on the toilet seat and head looking down into it. He started giggling, an incessant low pitched laughter which hurt his severely aching stomach – he hadn’t eaten in days. When he stopped, he exhaled – one long breath which prompted him to throw up. He nearly choked, his body had nothing else to give out and the strain was causing him to lose consciousness, his eyes rolled upwards several times, each time regaining sensibility with severe strain. He fell to the floor, lying there like a lump of meat.

Clearly the Adderall wasn’t working because hundreds of thoughts infiltrated his brain. His mind railed on the whereabouts of Klaus, another part was terrified of whatever was wrong with him. Another part started doubting whether Klaus was just his imagination.

Was it possible that Klaus wasn’t real? That he was just a figment of his imagination? A solemn whisper from the back of his mind filled him with trepidation that made every cell of his body sting with fear. What if he had imagined the past few weeks? What if everything was a self defence mechanism?

Stiles inhaled, trying to recognize if Klaus’ scent was still there, but all he could smell was the sick metallic odour of vomit and sickness. He heaved, desperately trying to deny the possibility that he was going crazy.

Stiles woke up again after half an hour – disoriented. He was still lying on the bathroom’s cold floor, he came to the conclusion that he must have zoned out because of exhaustion. The sticky clothes, the unbearably cold floor against his chalky hot skin, and the smell of illness galvanised him to get into the shower. He didn’t feel better - not really - but he seemed to have gained enough energy to actually do something.  He rinsed himself off under the hot water pouring down on him, leaning against the shower’s inner wall for support – trying to block out all of the thoughts in his mind.

He moved downstairs, quickly making a sandwich and taking small rapid bites forcefully, swallowing the food without chewing, knowing the taste would be horrible.

His thoughts flickered back to his father, Stiles had barely talked to him in days – always cutting the conversation short with one-liners;  ‘Yes’, or ‘I’m fine, Dad’. He buried his head in his hands, his freaking misery was alienating his own _father_ – the one person who had been there all his life, his one constant was probably freaking himself out over his son and Stiles couldn’t even manage to be fucking _normal_. That was all that the Sheriff asked of him, to be freaking normal – _ordinary_.

* * *

 

John was slouched on his chair, leaning back with his head up and a pen in his hand, tapping it against the desk relentlessly. He was on his fourth glass of scotch – he had stopped doing his paperwork twenty minutes earlier. He knew it was useless to stay in the office any longer – he was way too out of it to do anything mildly productive. Nevertheless, the knowledge that he’d have to go back home frightened him. The foreboding sense of guilt and pity made him hesitant. What kind of father didn’t want to see his own son? Stiles was his responsibility, his one real responsibility. He leaned forward, lowering his head onto his arms, letting the daze and the dull feeling of liquor take him. Images of Stiles kept flooding his mind at a slowly diminishing rate, gradually losing clarity until some of them became smudges.

The only one that remained cruelly clear was the face that he saw on Stiles the previous day. It wasn’t of a teenage boy; it was of a broken and empty man – cold and bitter. His eyes had turned from that of golden honey to a dull muddy brown with no light in them. A dark shadow that came from lack of sleep settled under them. His cheekbones jutted out and his cheeks were hollowed in as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Every time he tried to talk to Stiles, all he got in return was small nods or low unintelligible mumbles.

John had decided to call Scott earlier, trying to understand what had happened. Stiles had told him that he’d been hanging out with Scott, that everything was great. He barely spent anytime at home anymore. The sheriff was overjoyed about it, relieved that everything was returning to normal. When Scott told him that Stiles wasn’t hanging out with them at all the realization that he had been blind – that Stiles had been lying to him – hit him like a wrecker ball.

He knew what it meant; the conclusion came like a snaking slithering through the darkness, revealing an even more bitter area. His breath shortened, the broken image of Stiles reappearing once again in the front of his mind. Was his son on drugs? Was Stiles doing God knows what while lying to him about it?

Stiles was breaking in-front of him and he didn’t even notice. The apprehension that came with this realization made his heart halt, and he fell to the floor. His breath hitched and the nightmarish image of his broken son was the one thing that accompanied him to the looming darkness.

* * *

 

“Don’t be reckless, Derek; killing Peter now won't solve anything.” Lydia, Erica, and Boyd sat around the library’s table, all hunched forward, whispering over the hot steam coming out of their tea.

It was eight in the morning, the sun shined through the windows and the light reflected itself from the liquor bottles in the cabinets in shafts around the room. Derek had told Lydia first, who called the other four in afterwards.

“Why not? Kill him, Kill Klaus, and it is over,” Erica deduced.

“If we kill Peter, Klaus will immediately be aware of it. He controls the bond, remember?”

“…and that will alert him, he could suck Stiles lifeless and escape, or worse, gain the upper hand. We can’t let him get suspicious in anyway, that could cost Stiles’ life,” Boyd explained simply, his hands knotting together. He was tired of breaking down Lydia’s fast reasoning to understandable terms for others.

“I don’t think Klaus has any intention of killing him. Stiles seems to be more valuable to him alive than dead,” Derek said.

Lydia brought a finger to her lips. “It might be because of Stiles’ abilities, letting Stiles draw energy from him and vice versa, both getting stronger. A covenant and a Fey stand a much higher chance of standing up against a pack.”

“Covenant?” Isaac whispered from behind her.

“What those who practice magical stuff like Deaton, Stiles, and Amanda are called,” she whispered loudly back.

“That and the fact that we’d never hurt Stiles, so his best source of power is also a precious hostage,”  Erica concludes.  
  
“That son of a bitch…” Derek muttered, infuriated.

“He really planned it through; he probably lured the Fey here, starved it, bargained with it and manipulated us to push Stiles away and into its clutches.”  Lydia tipped her fingers out with every point, formulating a pattern.  
  
Derek’s hand slammed against the table, cracking the glass lining. Erica flinched.

“Manipulated us?” Isaac giggled.

“What?” Boyd asked, confused.

“Peter might have done many things, but let’s not blame him for pushing Stiles away – that’s our doing, he just took advantage of it.”

“That is not-“ Derek began.

“Oh spare me Derek, your ego pushed Stiles away more than any of us,” Isaac interrupted. Everyone knew that he wasn’t particularly close to Stiles, they also knew that he had the most objective view on the situation out of all of them.

Derek roared, mere seconds away from launching at him.

“Shut up! Both of you! We all screwed up and now we can either fight and blame each other or do something about it!” Allison snapped, rising from her chair and seemingly silencing both werewolves.

“Thank-you Allison,” Lydia nodded with a smile. “Now, I have a plan. Klaus is unaware that we know about him - Peter is too - so we have the element of surprise. The moment that we engage against any of them they will immediately realize we know and will retaliate.”  
  
“So?” Derek pressed, leaning against the table.

 

* * *

 

“Stiles?” The formality of the tone inspired a dark, foreboding feeling into him.

 “Yes?”

“Stiles, can you drive to the hospital?” The voice was uncertain and full of hesitation.

Stiles’ eyes bulged. “Why? What happened?... Is it my father?” He added after as his mind drew webs of conclusions.

“He – it's better if you come. Drive slowly; he’s fine now.” The falter in the word _fine_ made Stiles shudder.

Fifteen minutes later he was in the waiting room, sitting there for the umpteenth time – because you know -Stiles’ life; the hospital pretty much became a monthly occasion. Everything was bare and white, there was no one else in there – all of the other men who worked with his dad had left. He nibbled on his finger nails, trepidation taking over his actions. Random nurses walked from one side to the other, talking in low voices, some of them looked at him with a sense of distress, maybe it was because he was the Sheriff’s son – or maybe it was because said sheriff was currently having an open heart surgery. Every time the doors slid open or shut he looked up, hoping someone from the surgical team had any news, although half of that hope was filled with fear and agitation. There were some magazines on a small table besides him but he couldn’t bring himself to look at them, the bleeping of machines and the random intercom calling out codes were the only sounds besides his own breathing.

Stiles looked down at himself after a while; he was wearing a loose grey shirt and black pants, which Stiles figured belonged in the laundry. He sighed, got up, and started pacing around, there was a mirror further down the hallway and when he passed by it he slowed to a halt.

He knew exactly why the nurses looked at him like that; he looked like a guy deep into his road to drug addiction. He couldn’t believe that only a fortnight before he had never looked or felt better than ever – now, now he was a _wreck_. His eyes were completely blank, his skin was chalky, and he looked malnourished - disturbingly so – everything about him was ghastly. His knees were seconds away from giving in and he had to walk back and sit down, catching his breath.

A nurse came in after what seemed like hours had passed.

“Hello, Stiles?”

“Yes.” He nodded, avoiding looking at her eyes, self-conscious of how he looked.

She gave him a once over, brows furrowing. “The surgery is proceeding well, if there are no complications your father will make it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Three hours.”

“What happened... exactly?” he asked. They had already told him, but he was too overwhelmed to decipher anything at that moment.

“He had a heart attack, our goal is to open the blocked artery and restore blood flow to the muscle. Your father was lucky that someone who noticed he had collapsed. Any more time without surgery and it might have caused heart failure.”

The guilt that came with knowing that he didn’t even notice that his father should have been home, and that he stopped checking up on him and what he ate hit him brutally.

“Will he be okay… after the surgery?”

“It depends on the amount of healthy muscle remaining after a heart attack, but from our analysis the damage is acute.”

“So he’ll be fine?”

“Yes, but I strongly suggest a healthy prescribed diet – there are also several medications that he must take to control his heart rhythm.”

He nodded and she left, heading back to the OR.

“Stiles!?”

He jerked back to the familiar voice.

Melissa approached and embraced him. “I’m so sorry Stiles, I would have come earlier but I was in another OR – what did they tell you? Do you want me to check in for you?”

She sat down with him, a supporting hand around his shoulder.

“No, it’s okay, they told me. They said he had a heart attack.” He sniffed unconsciously, trying to hold down dry tears.

“Stiles.” She remained there with him for a while, they didn’t speak, but the comfort that she brought to him was better than any kind of speech.

“I’m going to call Scott, give me a minute.”

“No. Don’t.” His voice was hoarse.

“Why not? You need someone to be there for you right now. I’m aware that you haven’t been hanging out with Scott lately. Stiles – what happened?” Tears flooded her eyes.

“Is it the werewolf thing?” she tried, inquiring.

“I didn’t fit in anymore, Melissa.” He stared right at the floor.

“Nonsense, if you hadn’t been there Scott would have-“ She flinched, not wanting to voice the direction of her thoughts.

“What matters is that you need someone right now,” she concluded, her gaze fixed and determined.

“I’m here.” The smooth sharp voice shocked both of them, looking to the hallway’s entrance to see Klaus standing there, with a half buttoned white shirt and black jeans, hair mussed and expression tired.

“Klaus!” Stiles jerked up, the relief and joy overwhelming his own exhaustion instantly. He rushed to him and Klaus drew him into a tight embrace.

“Where were you?” Stiles sobbed, his head against Klaus’ chest, the sound of Klaus’ erratic heartbeat provided him with warm comfort. _He was real. It wasn’t just his imagination._

“I had to go visit my family urgently – family business. I meant to tell you but I lost my phone on the train. When they returned it to me and I saw your texts I rushed back – I’m so sorry Stiles.” Klaus heaved against him, his own voice wavering.

“Did you receive my last text?”

“Yes. How is he?”

“They’re operating on him.”

They finally broke out of their embrace, earning a bewildered expression from Melissa.

“I’m sorry. Klaus.” He shook her hand, smiling politely with an apologetic expression.

“Melissa. Scott’s mother,” She smiled back. “Do you guys want a cup of coffee?”

“I wouldn’t say no.” Stiles rubbed the back of his head, he felt so much better, as if finally he got to rest and everything solidified, his skin tingled with relief.

“Me neither,” Klaus said with a sheepish smile.

“I’ll be back soon.” Melissa nodded and left - a smile on her face.

They sat back on the seats and Stiles leaned on Klaus, who wrapped an arm around him like a seatbelt.

“I was wrecked; I thought I was going crazy. Don’t ever leave like that, at-least _tell_ me,” he admitted after a while.

“I know, I’m so sorry. I have a very overbearing family, I flew all the way here just so I could get rid of them. But I had to attend this thing they hold every year, and I had forgotten, you made me forget about everything else.” The cheeky accusation made Stiles smile.

“Did you manage to go? Or…?”

“Nah, the thing was going to be held tomorrow. I hyperventilated when my phone was returned and I saw your texts. So I returned.”

“But now, your family-“  
  
“Just. Screw them. I couldn’t stay an entire week away from you. Let’s worry about your father now.” Stiles sighed and they fell back into a comfortable silence, resting on each other.

After twenty minutes Stiles was woken up by Klaus, there were two nurses standing in-front of him – waiting for him to regain his composure.

“The surgery was successful; you can go see your dad now.”

One of the nurses led them to his dad, she was short and had a tiny, petite figure - a small smile was on her face the entire way.  
  
“Okay, we have already done the necessary post operation check up’s; however, we will keep him for observation for the next forty-eight hours.” She opened the room’s door for them and motioned for them to walk in, but Klaus stayed back.

“Huh?” Stiles turned to him, confused.

“It’s better if you talk to him first, there’ll be a better time for introductions, I’ll wait here.” Klaus smiled, leaning against the door’s frame.

Stiles nodded and walked in, taking a chair and sitting beside his dad.

“Hey.” John’s voice was hoarse from lack of use.

“Hey Dad.” Stiles’ own voice cracked.

“They said I have to follow a diet.” The sentence was slow, but there was a slight humour in it.

“Yeah, only veggies now.”

“Stiles.” His dad’s voice turned sombre.

“Yes?”

“What happened… to you?”

Stiles remained silent.

“Have you… have you been doing drugs?” Stiles’ eyes bulged.

“No. Dad! Seriously!?”

“You have been lying to me…” He inhaled slowly. “Who were you going out with – really?”

“Dad.”

“The truth, Stiles.”

“There’s this person, I’ve been… hanging out with him. I wasn’t sure how you’d react, so I-“

The sheriff suddenly exhaled in relief. “Wait, it’s just a guy?”

Stiles sighed. “Yeah.”

“Oh thank god… you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

They stared at each other for a while, and then burst into giggles.

“Is he outside?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell him to come in.”

“You won’t kill him, right?” Stiles asked as he was about to stand up.

“Stiles.”

“Opening the door.”  Stiles motioned Klaus to come in, who looked about as self-conscious as one could get.

“Hello, Mr Stilinski.”

“Hey.”  
  
“I need to ask you something,” his dad said, serious.

“Oh God.” Stiles wrapped a hand around his eyes. Klaus smiled.

“Will you make sure that he doesn’t miss out on school tomorrow?”

“I’ll drag him with me, sir.”

When they got out of the room, Scott, Lydia, and everyone else - including Derek - was there, standing in the hallway and pacing around. Stiles smiled, feeling like everything was falling back to place – at least momentarily. At that moment, he might have tried to hold his bitterness against them – but he couldn’t. Their presence filled him with warmth and relief, they were there – they weren’t there when he wanted them, but they were always there when he really needed them.

Klaus wrapped his arms around him, and Stiles saw the barely held disapproval in their eyes. He sighed, overwhelming exhaustion suddeny taking over him and causing him to lean into Klaus.

As they walked through them, he couldn’t help but look at Derek. His face was firm and impassive – as always. But there was that expression of hurt and repression, the one Stiles identified more than others, because he had labelled all of Derek’s expressions - which, okay, mostly involved his eyebrows.

Stiles missed Derek. He wasn’t sure why, he always knew the boundaries between him and the man were clear, that he should stay away – Derek himself made that clear. However, Stiles couldn’t help but feel that there were too many loose ends when it came to them. He sighed; he thought he connected with Derek, even after all those embarrassing situations. He had spent the majority of his time with Derek hoping that the alpha couldn’t hear his heart beat just a little more erratically when they got too close. They _had_ bonded - Stiles wasn’t sure how, maybe it was because of the many life threatening situations that they found themselves in, or the silent nods of encouragement that they gave to each other before battles. Stiles grew to care about him. Gradually, the image of Derek turned from the one of an unbreakable wall of muscles with no feelings to that of a broken boy hiding behind said wall.

Sometimes – on special occasions, Derek allowed him to get through that barrier and take a look. They were subtle, small, fluttering moments, and anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed; but for them they were as significant as they could get. They were two people who were broken and needed others in order to be fixed, in one way or another.

He preferred to think of Derek as someone who was without emotion, because when he thought about how the death of his mum affected him, and then thought about how the death of an entire family affected Derek – he shuddered. He refused to think about it.

Even when the small cracks in Derek’s seemingly unbreakable persona showed.

It was during the last New Year’s Eve. Stiles was leaning on the balcony, he had silently whispered to his mum, a small mumble of thanks and I love you. He didn’t notice Derek was there too. He had turned red, embarrassed because he knew that Derek had probably heard everything.

Derek had leant against the iron work beside him, taking a sip from his beer. They were at Lydia’s house, the night was clear and dark, but the stars shined brightly and the moon made the pool’s water glisten.

Derek passed him the beer, and Stiles drank a little before passing it back. They inhaled and exhaled together for a while. When they heard the others counting down the last minute from downstairs, Derek let out a deep breath, smiling.

“I don’t believe in heaven, but I believe that as long as they are in our memories, they’ll never die.”

It was probably one of the most significant things Derek had ever told him – or anyone - and he nodded before going back in. Stiles let out a few tears before doing the same, and he was okay with that – he was keeping his mother alive after all.

The midnight bell rang, and everyone cheered, and Stiles had joined them.

“Stiles?” Klaus looked at him as they made the last turn to his house.

“I’m fine.” Stiles smiled and leant against the window’s glass, drained.

* * *

 

Scott looked around, he was waiting near the entrance of the pool, wondering for the seventh time whether he should go through with this or not. He let out a deep breath, then inhaled, letting the air fill his lungs before he strolled in; he might or might not have been shaking slightly. Klaus was doing laps from one side of the pool to the other, his pace relentless. Scott sat down on one of the benches on the far back of the area, eyes fixed on Klaus’ movements. From where he sat Klaus seemed perfectly normal, his movements a little too fluid – but he looked tired, just like the others. He bit on his finger nail – what if Klaus was perfectly ordinary and he was about to ruin everything? His mind drifted back to the moment when he had slammed against the other guy during the lacrosse practise, no matter what Peter had said he couldn’t believe it – it was way too off.

He had already discussed all of this with Allison, but it was to no avail. She thought that it was all in his head, and that maybe it was him being a little jealous. A part of him agreed with her. He remembered the previous day when Stiles came out of his father’s room in the hospital. Klaus was with him, and when they passed through them like that he couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of jealousy. The way Stiles looked at them, it was half happy – relieved, yet half sombre and dull, and that dark part took over his smile and turned it into a horizontal impassive line the second Klaus moved closer and wrapped his arms around him. Scott gritted his teeth - he couldn’t wait until that damned potion was ready. He needed to settle his doubts _now_.

Scott knew that the only time to catch Klaus alone was during swimming classes; Jackson had spent enough time whining about the fact that he was being beaten by the ‘new guy’ for Scott to know almost all of the details. He waited until everyone left; Klaus remained there drying himself off, which worked to his favour.

“Klaus.” He tried to make sure his call didn’t come off as one of his trademark shouts.

Klaus turned to Scott, smiling. “Hello Scott, Stiles isn’t here, but-“

“I want to talk to you.” He kept his voice firm and bold.

“How were you able to get up last time?”

Klaus’ eyebrow shot up, confused. “Huh?”

“I’m talking about a couple of weeks ago, when I ran into you while we were practicing.”

“Well, the same way you did.” Klaus smirked, rubbing the back of his head and putting his shirt down.

“That’s impossible.”

Klaus’ smile fell.

“What are you… exactly?” Scott’s voice turned low, a warning growl emitting involuntarily. He re-adjusted his stance, intent on testing Klaus.

“I have no idea-“

“What is happening in here?” Stiles came in, interrupting Klaus and causing Scott to let loose.

“We were just talking, Stiles, its all-right.” Stiles looked between Klaus and Scott, unconvinced.

“Stiles, do you remember that day that I slammed into Klaus by accident, during Lacrosse?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” Stiles’ brows furrowed.

“Well, don’t you think that it is a little suspicious that he just got up like it was nothing?” Scott explained, hoping his argument made sense to Stiles.

“What are you trying to say, Scott?” Stiles’ tone turned sharp and Scott was taken aback by his ferocity, he moved over to Scott, looming over him sardonically.

“Guys, calm down. It was just a misunderstanding, Scott, you didn’t hit me too hard, although I did wake up with my muscles aching all over.” Klaus flashed a smile.

Scott scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Scott, you’ve done enough – more than enough. Now. Back. Off.” Stiles took Klaus’ hand and the both of them turned to walk out of the swimming area. Scott lost it, it was now or never, and if he charged at Klaus he’d have no option but to retaliate.

Scott charged forward, but suddenly something wrapped around him, rendering him immobile. He looked around, shocked. There was nothing holding him in place, yet he couldn't move a muscle – he tried to struggle out of it but it was futile. He instinctively shifted into his werewolf form and inhaled, trying to smell what he couldn’t see; that’s when it hit him, whatever was keeping him in place was made of magic, it smelled like burned incense or herbs. His mind suddenly switched, _mountain ash_. His eyes flickered to Stiles and Klaus, who had just left the room. As they passed through the corridor, Stiles looked at him from behind the window glass, his eyes pitch black and expression completely hollow. Once they were out of sight the mountain ash dropped to the floor, causing Scott to fall forward.  


* * *

“Stiles?”  Klaus followed him into the empty backyard, the cold winds of December dishevelled his jet black hair and his breath let out in a mist.

“Are you the Fey?” It was a sudden question, or rather a confirmation.

Stiles’ unnaturally black eyes bore holes through his own, and for the first time he was the one that was left legless under the other’s gaze. He had never seen this side of Stiles’, the danger that dwelled behind it intrigued him.

He looked down. “Yes,” he muttered.

Stiles gasped, a hand instinctively coming up to his mouth.         

“I should have let him charge at you,” he said, unconvincingly, his eyes looking down.

“You couldn’t.”

“Is all of this… your doing?” His eyes flickered to Klaus once more. “I can’t… I can’t bring myself to be angry with you.”

“No.”

“You played with me.”

“I didn’t, I know what you think I am – you’re wrong. I don’t make you weak, nor do I feed off of you, you’re healthy, you’re stronger than you’ve ever been, and it’s because you draw power from me just as I do from you.

“Please, Stiles,” Klaus continued, moving closer to him. “Please, believe me, I care about you – a lot. I don’t want to lose you.” He brought his hands up and cupped Stiles’ face.

“Please, give me a chance, let me show you that I’m not what you think.” His voice turned into a low, husky whisper and he leaned in and took Stiles into a long, deep kiss.

Stiles pulled away, trying to focus and clear himself away from the lusty haze that had infiltrated his mind. He could barely believe what was happening. He had spent the last night asleep in his own bed, Klaus cuddling into him from behind, his hand pressing Stiles close to him, comforting him through his tears – comforting him about his father.

“How do I know you’re not manipulating me right now?” He asked, cautious.

“I can’t make you feel something you don’t already, all I can do is… enhance what you already have.” Klaus look around and then back at him. “Remember the first time I talked to you, our first date, the time we spent together… nothing about any of that was unnatural.”

“You were seducing me.”

“I was. And I ended up more smitten then you are.”

“Can you even feel anything?”

Klaus bit his lower lip, offended. “You know, just because I’m not like everyone else it doesn’t mean that I’m a heartless monster. I thought you of all people would understand...”

“Tell me what you are, exactly. No lies,” Stiles said.

Klaus looked at him for another moment and exhaled. “I’m a Fey. I can do things like move very fast, see and smell things, and I have heightened strength and reflexes… but we are not strong on our own. We need links – bonds – to draw power from. I bonded with you and we drew power from each other, that’s why we both got stronger.” Klaus dared to look at Stiles, who looked stunned. Klaus exhaled.

“Okay, this is not going well and I can see how completely scared off you are from me. I’ll leave. I won’t bear any grudges.” He shook his head dejectedly and turned, moving away.

“Klaus!” He raised his voice over the howling winds.

“What?” Klaus slowed down, but didn’t turn.

“Look at me.”

When Klaus did turn, Stiles moved closer and kissed him, this time not pulling away.

* * *

 

They missed the rest of their classes, too overwhelmed by the sudden influx of information that they now shared. A wound was stripped bare and now they had to work through fixing it. Stiles felt like everything was still too jumbled up inside his brain, he needed time to process and organise things – only then would he be able to understand everything and act. Right now he felt that he could promise nothing. His mind railed through one problem after the other, the whole thing with Klaus, with Scott and the others, and his father.

He didn’t know how to deal with Scott. While he might have been absolutely ridiculous, Stiles had to come in terms with the fact that his friend was indeed right, but whether that justified anything or not was something that he still had to come to terms with.

They went into the woods; it seemed to be their place – the wild. The mist that settled during late November was cleared out by the aggressive hail that rained down all week. Without the white vapour covering the air, Stiles could see the twigs that sprang out, flayed brutally from the trees by the gale wind. Everything seemed stale and ugly. A couple of the thinner trees swayed to their weaker side and a few trees had fallen. The smell of rotten wood, decayed, dead animals, and stagnant pools of water filled Stiles with an uneasy sickly smell. The snow that used to cover the ground and gave it that appearance of white foam was swept away by the hail which stomped holes and dissolved it into water, revealing the fractures in the logs and the debris left lying around. The trunks, darkened by the rain, had multiple cracks visible at their base – everything was sweetly sticky against his skin, the air too chilly and still to provide any kind of comforting breeze.

They sat on a couple of large logs, the stench of musk and wet wood reminded him of the previous week. It felt surreal that in such a short period of time things had changed so much. But really, he was Stiles. Everything around him was as complicated as it could get – he should have looked around better, nothing was normal when it came to him. They didn’t talk at first, preferring to sit in amicable silence, the foreboding feeling of the fact that they eventually _needed_ to talk made both men uneasy. Stiles knew he that couldn’t come up with an argument – a case – in such a short period, but he could at-least ask, store everything in that brain of his and leave the organising for later.

He smirked to himself when he realized that he had willingly walked into the forest with Klaus - who could kill him. But even if he knew that he should fear Klaus, he couldn’t. Klaus had been nothing but perfect for him. No matter how much his inner instincts tried to warn him off, to yell from somewhere deep within that he should _run_ – there was something inside of him that knew that Klaus wouldn’t hurt him. But was that part of him the one manipulated by Klaus?

“How does it work? Deaton told me that the fey – you - can manipulate people completely and you suck the energy out of them until they die.” Stiles swallowed through the last word. He hoped that Klaus didn’t hear the waver in his voice. Klaus bent his head low, staring at a wooden twig as a small spider slowly climbed onto it.

“When it comes to normal humans, yes. But you’re not normal. You’re a covenant – physically you are human, but you have a much stronger mental energy – you can only be influenced.”

“So why take a difficult target?” Stiles knew about him being a covenant, although his knowledge of what that meant was very limited. He just knew that he could channel energy.

“With humans, we take their energy and eventually they weaken and die. But you’re stronger, even if you weaken you can recover. As a covenant, you have the ability to draw the energy from those around you.”

“So I was your personal self-regenerating supply?”

“No, _no_. We can suck the energy out of people, but we can also give our energy – like you, we can channel energy, in a different way.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Stiles spat out, and he couldn’t refrain the disgust from seeping through his words.

“ _Stiles_.” The way Klaus said it sent shivers through his spine, filling him with guilt. “I know it’s difficult to understand, but I chose to be with you because whatever we have is the closest to real anything in my life can be. You are influenced, yes, but you have your complete free will. If you wanted to, if you really wanted to, you could shut me out.”

“I can feel it now, the fog in my mind, the daze - it was _you_.” He struggled to locate it, the hazy feeling inside of him. It felt like he was drunk, had one to many shots – he could sober up, stop drinking, but it felt too good to let go, to let himself fall into the sensation. Klaus was right, it was him, he himself was the one letting Klaus in.

He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“So what about everything we did – together. Was that just to influence me?”

“Yes.” Klaus smiled, like enjoying some sort of private joke – Stiles remained solemn. “But I ended up much more influenced than you.” His eyes flicked to Stiles’ and back down to the ground, ashamed.

“I… never thought it would be like this. Usually it’s with normal people, and it’s easy. The bond happens, I feed, and when they start getting weak I break it. But with you, it’s so different, I could flirt with you like I observe people doing, I could go out with you and be nervous that you could deny me – God I was so hurt when you declined my first date. I found it surreally painful, but when you called me afterwards, on Saturday, the happiness I felt was incredible.” Klaus smiled, lost in his own memories like a child discovering something new.

Stiles smiled too.

“So I’m drawing energy from you?”

“Yes, innately, you get stronger depending on how many links you have, the stronger the ties that bind you, the more powerful your magic gets. When you draw energy from me, you get very strong.”

Stiles’ eyes moved to the left, and he remembered how he froze the water droplets. He realized that it could have been why his magic completely faded away after he detached himself from the pack.

“Like how you suddenly recovered from being sick. Yesterday you were weak, now you’re very strong - and how you stopped Scott from attacking me.” Klaus’ tone was careful, an unchanging wavelength. Stiles lost himself in it.

“You know about Scott?” He jerked up, surprised.

“I realized, yes.”

“When?”

“Werewolves give a very particular smell.” Klaus smiled, and then turned serious. “Stiles, if they find me, they’ll kill me.”

“They won’t find out, and they’ll understand.” They _had_ to understand, Stiles knew it would be hard, but if he tried, made them listen, they would have to. He shrugged, he couldn’t think about that _too_ , not right now.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Stiles decided to skip the rest of his classes and visit his dad, who was furious over the fact that he couldn’t get out of the hospital already – at-least it lightened Stiles’ mood. He went back home, prepared a hot bath, undressed, and lowered himself into the soothing water – calming himself down and finally deciding to start dealing with everything he had learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any tips/suggestions please do not be afraid to share. xoxo  
> Sorry for taking so long, College was crazy on me this week.  
> I appreciate any constructive criticism/comments. Okay, who am I kidding - I love them. x_x
> 
> P.S: Big Teen Wolf Style fight next chapter <3


	9. Sins of the Desperate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As things go deeper, everyone pools out all their resources - with different aims.  
> Question is, who is the most desperate of them all?

“How will we be able to separate the two of them without them being aware of it?” Allison wondered. They arrived in Deaton’s clinic half an hour earlier after Scott asked to urgently meet them.

“There has to be a-lot of commotion. A distraction.” Erica chipped in.

“Will Stiles be… you know – violent?”

Everyone looked apprehensively towards Scott. He swallowed. “I don’t- No.” He shook his head. “But, he can always render us immobile, and it’s fast, he’s really fast, I didn’t even have time to react.”

“What if Klaus makes him attack us?” Erica asked, inquiring.

“I don’t think he can, covenants have very strong mentalities, Klaus won’t be able to force Stiles to do something he specifically does not want to.” Deaton replied.

“It explains why Klaus charmed him, he needed Stiles to want it, to let go with his own free will.” Boyd concluded, moving out of the corner and around the table.

“Plus, Stiles is unaware of what Klaus is, that’s their disadvantage.” Erica added, smirking.

“But we need to act fast, if Stiles falls any deeper not even the knowledge of Klaus being a Fey will separate them.” Deaton leaned onto the medical table apprehensively.

“I know where!”

Everyone turned to Lydia.

“What?” Scott asked, confused.

“What’s the perfect place where everyone can be close to each other; stalk each other without anyone finding it remotely strange?” Lydia tipped, excited.

“In a mental asylum?” Jackson piped in.

“A party! – The Christmas annual party at school, it will be held in the school hall, everyone will be there, and it will be perfect!”

“The 25th… that’s next Wednesday.” Allison brought her hands up and under her chin, mentally calculating. “Lydia you can lead Stiles away from the party and into the hallway, you’ll distract him – engage him in a conversation.”

“I’ll be there, just in case.” Deaton added.

“Everyone else will corner Klaus, as long as we keep Stiles away…” Allison drifted off.

“How will we corner him?” Isaac crossed his hands and raised an eyebrow.

“Well he doesn’t suspect us.”

“After what happened with Scott – I doubt that. “

“Yes, but Klaus wants to keep his act more than anything, even when I was blunt with him he acted completely oblivious.” Scott remarked.

“Well then Allison can talk to him – apologise to him about Scott’s behaviour, talk about their friendship – Klaus will fall for it.”

“That could work.” Derek nodded in agreement.

“Wait.” Boyd raised a hand and interrupted. “Can Klaus suck all of Stiles’ energy?”

“Why would he do that?”  
  
“If he is desperate enough, Stiles doesn’t know about Klaus… he’s oblivious to everything, if Stiles won’t be there to help him with magic, then Klaus might as well take the second best option.”

“Boyd is right, we need to make sure that Klaus doesn’t have time to react, that’s why we need to keep the element of surprise.” Deaton concluded.

“What about Peter?” Scott brought it up unwillingly, the fact that Peter was behind this seemed vaguely surreal – it wasn’t a shock, but they were nevertheless surprised; Peter had been crucial in dealing with the alpha pack, without him they would have never managed to prolong the fight for long enough to come up with a solid plan.

“I’ll handle him.” Derek ended the conversation and left without another word.

* * *

Stiles relaxed and eased himself into the bathtub, letting the hot liquid seep into his skin, thick white vapour steamed off from the water and his flesh, rolling into waves throughout the room. The mirror quickly became foggy and drops tickled off from the fake plants in the corner. He brushed his teeth and he was about to stand up and put the toothbrush into its holder when an idea came to his mind. He fell back down and closed his eyes, picturing his energy flowing into the toothbrush until he heard it clattering as it hovered off and into the air, he opened his eyes and watched as it levitated back to its holder, carefully moving it in. Stiles looked at the curtain and concentrated on them, willing them to move up – but it didn’t work. He cursed, irritated and then tried again. Stiles tried pushing his energy from below them – an upward thrust - but it was going to tear them off their notches. He exhaled slowly, maybe he needed a different approach, he closed his eyes and pictured his energy seeping into the curtain; imagining the feel of the thick white fabric, its weight, shape and form.

He opened his eyes and the curtains pulled up, letting the steam creep its way out of the room slowly while the moon reflected its light against the water.

Stiles smirked wickedly; this intrigued him to no end.

He closed his eyes again, and this time he focused his energy onto the switch – it was outside of the room – but he knew that as long as he drew up every little detail in his mind and channelled his energy he’d be able to do it. The lights switched off and he let out a small excited laugh filled with glee. The next thing he did was open the cupboard on the far side of the room, hovering the candles out and letting them levitate around the bathtub.

Stiles bit his lip, lighting them on was going to be a bitch. There was a fine line between manipulating energy and transforming energy, he might have gotten pretty good at the former, but he had very little knowledge on the second one. Stiles let out an exasperated breath and the candles fell down instantly on the floor, he groaned at first in irritation, hoping he didn’t break any of them but then he let himself enjoy the water and relaxed again.

He remembered the first time he started training – it was with Derek. His weapon of choice was a bat; it wasn’t his intention to have a bat as a weapon against werewolves. Derek had given it to him as something to practice with before he moved on to choosing something more adequate – a theoretical piece of some sort. He had started with channelling his energy into the piece of wood – back then; it had taken him two weeks to actually get anything into that damned bat apart from kicks every time he got pissed off.

When he did realize he had actually managed to channel his energy, Derek was rolling on the floor groaning and cursing in Italian. Stiles didn’t know Derek knew Italian, which by the way – _rude_. If Derek was going to be his mentor or whatever he should have at-least briefed him that he knew Italian - and Spanish, although he was truly horrible in the latter.

Coming back to the bat, well, Stiles just stuck with it, he really didn’t have the time or motivation to change it. While everyone else launched at Derek with their claws, he launched at him with his bat. Whereby he started off with having said bat taken away from him and his body flying onto the couch every time, he rapidly learned to use his clumsiness to his advantage – he used it to be unpredictable. Once, Derek twisted his arm, forcing him to let go of it and subsequently pinning him to the ground, restraining Stiles’ limbs with his own, if Stiles’ heart wasn’t threatening to go into overdrive he might have telekinetically hit Derek with the bat on his head, instead of his ass.

He smiled under the water as the memory played in his mind, his lips involuntarily curving into a wide grin. The bat was under his bed – it took him quite a while to explain the reason behind one having a very conspicuous looking object there to his father, but he managed to dodge the questions until his dad simply let it go. It wasn’t much of a bat anymore, now looking more like a well moulded club, Deaton had helped him use his energy to alter its shape a little, making it more solid and refining its edges.

He remembered when he ruined the second full blown assault of the alpha pack. That was one of his best moments – even if it led to one of his worst.  Derek was captured and being held hostage in a garage by the creepy twins – or so had Stiles decided to label them when he found them touching the sour wolf in _ways_. Scott and the others were tracking him by his scent, but Stiles had a feeling that it couldn’t be that easy – something was off – and he was right, the whole group was lead into a completely different location and cornered. Stiles had realized it almost too late, but he and Danny located Derek by tracking Ethan’s phone, which was used to contact the group and taunt them about Derek.

He had been pretty smart, and when he smacked the wolf’s bane coated bat against both Ethan’s and Aiden’s jaw even Derek was impressed. They managed to kill Aiden, but Ethan escaped – Derek was going to chase him off but they had to go rescue the rest of the group. Later that night, they all cheered and drank, celebrating their small victory as a pack.

The next time the alpha pack attacked, they made sure Stiles paid.

Stiles flinched out of the water, shaking the horrifying memory that threatened to conjure itself away as quickly as he could. The sole thought of the recollection of that night sent shivers through his spine. He could still feel Kali’s sharp claws as they drilled through his flesh and squeezed against his bones from the inside, the snapping of one of his ribs under her brutal strength. It was excruciating, the pain, it caused him to spasm involuntarily, the movement itself ignited an even bigger pain and all the while Kali’s claws remained there, ripping him further as his body clattered and writhed on its own.

Derek had arrived just after, and Stiles was relieved he wasn’t there to watch what happened. After that night Derek had grown distant, Stiles was angry about it – he needed Derek more than anyone, because Derek _understood_. When he asked Peter why, why was Derek not visiting like the rest, Peter had told him that Derek had lost his entire family, and he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

Stiles got the underlying message beneath that accusatory glare, he was human; he was too fragile, made of frail bones and an annoying personality but with nothing else. He was too easily breakable for Derek; Derek needed someone strong, someone solid and powerful to support him.

Some weeks later Peter stopped by and told him that Derek was going out with Ravenna, a werewolf from their distant family – he told Stiles that Ravenna was fearsome and a very independent woman, strong and solid.

Stiles felt his heart break a little, but he had smiled, sent his congratulations through Peter to Derek and asked to be left alone – Stiles didn’t really mean for them not to visit him again. He didn’t mean to get his hopes high when Ravenna left either, or to feel desolated when Derek didn’t even come close to him afterwards.

Derek.

Stiles inhaled, giving a solid form to his energy in his mind, he gave it the form of the triskelion on Derek’s back, and then he imagined the black ink bursting into flames.

His energy swirled around the candles, igniting them as they hovered back into the air around him; the red light dimmed the room and turned the white hot steam into a bloody haze.

* * *

He went to his room, taking the glass of water on his desk and gulping it down, using magic made him thirsty. It also made him bitchy and selfish, but he didn’t want to dwell too much on that. His phone rang, which was lost somewhere in his sheets. It was almost ten in the evening.

“Stiles?” Klaus’ ever soothing voice reawakened his laziness. Stiles felt legless for a moment, falling back into his bed.

“Yeah?” He answered.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great.” It was only half a lie after all.

“Urm… Do you want me to come over?”

“It’s okay, I’d like to stay alone for tonight, catch up on stuff and you know…” He dragged on, hoping he managed to sway Klaus.

“I understand.”

“We can meet tomorrow morning, I’m free.”  Stiles heard a small chuckle from the other side of the line.

“Okay, I’ll text you.” Klaus’ tone was several notes higher; Stiles felt a little sick about it.

“I’m going to sleep, see you.” His voice was low.

“See you. Good night.”

Stiles fell into his bed, letting sleep creep into his vision, slowly blurring the edges until everything lost its shape.

When his Dad woke him up, Stiles thought he was dreaming. When he realized he wasn’t, he yelled.

“Morning to you too…” The sheriff rubbed the back of his head, wincing a little at the sudden outcry.

“What are you doing here?”

“This is my house.” Like that was an explanation. Stiles’ glowered at him.

“They let me leave a little early, seems I’m pretty fine.”

“Who and how did you threaten them?” Stiles jerked up from his bed and moved to embrace his father.

“No one. Promise. Melissa arranged it, she’ll come check on me regularly.”

“Sneaky Dad, really sneaky.”

“Shut it son, we still haven’t had the Klaus talk. What sort of name is that by the way?”

“Because this family is in such a position to judge names, Dad, really?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Got it.” The sheriff raised his arms before going back down, leaving Stiles to his own tools.

Speaking of tools. Stiles rushed to the bathroom on the third floor, they rarely used it and if his dad saw the disaster he made of it yesterday he’d freak out. Freaking his father out was not on his list right now.

The candles were still on the floor, and the steam from the bathe dampened the room’s floor and walls. Stiles closed his eyes, put the candles back in and arranged everything back to its original position. The dampness would go, eventually.

He went back downstairs and into the shower, leaning on the bathroom sink, washing his face, brushing his tooth and rinsing his mouth with mouthwash. He turned on the electric shaver; even its gritting sound annoyed him. When he was finished he got back to his room, he was still in his night clothes so he undressed, picked up a pair of casual jeans and a white tight shirt from the wardrobe, and got dressed.

“Stiles!” It was his father; his father’s voice calling out for him sent a rush of fear through him, but he relaxed, his father was fine now.

“Yes?” He answered as he peeked out of his room, still struggling to put his shirt on.

“Lydia’s here.” His brows furrowed, Lydia?

He walked downstairs, from the group Lydia seemed the one who remained the most constant, while his relationship with the others constantly changed, with her it always remained subtle but _there_. Lydia was sitting on their couch, fiddling with her nails.

“We’re going shopping.” She stated nonchalantly as he walked into the living room.  
  
“Like hell we are.” He shrieked, backing away five steps.

“Oh come on, Allison is busy training – So I have to buy her clothes, Erica – well I don’t know exactly why Erica can’t come.” She wondered for a moment, lost in her own world, before pulling her phone out.

“I have to meet up with someone.” He tried to say, uncomfortable.

“Klaus?” She asked, just as nonchalantly.

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded.

“Do you not want to be dressed well for Wednesday?” She sat up, and her voice took the tone of a mother lecturing one of her children.

“Wednesday?” What was going to happen on Wednesday?

“Annual Christmas party, everyone gets drunk and makes out? Ring any bells?”

“I wasn’t really-“  He started.

“Oh no. You don’t get to finish that word, sorry Stiles. But last year you drilled me with your whining about how you’re always alone and how you were imagining Derek appearing out of nowhere-“

“Okay stop!” He gestured frantically but his dad’s head was already halfway out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Derek?” He asked, eyebrows meeting his hair line.

“Long story sheriff.” She nodded at him before giving him a once over. “You’re looking flawless by the way.”

His father blushed a little and rubbed the back of his head, nodding a ‘thanks’ before going back into the kitchen. Apparently no one in the Stilinski family was immune to Lydia.

“So, this time you have the chance to finally get to make out and eat your own words. We’re going.” Her phone beeped and she read the text. “Erica is tagging along by the way.”

Stiles groaned, moaned and proceeded to sigh, submitting.

They were about to get into Lydia’s car before Klaus appeared, baffled.

“Ohh hey.” Stiles said sheepishly.

“Klaus, dear, I’m taking Klaus shopping, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No.” Klaus looked sideways at Stiles and asked. “Shopping? What’s the occasion?”

“Lydia’s addicted.”

“Christmas party”

They said at the same time before glaring daggers at each other.

Klaus’ brows shot up. “Party?”

Lydia sighed. “You guys are completely and utterly hopeless.” She walked to Klaus and whispered something intelligible in his ears.

Klaus smiled and nodded. “Well, we’ll meet later then, Stiles.”

Stiles gaped, Klaus too?!

They met Erica in the park, and what started out as shopping for two people turned into a marathon of clothes for the entire group, including Klaus, and possibly Derek. Was Derek going to be at the party? He made sure to remain nonchalant in regards to _that_ revelation.

After three hours, five suits, thirteen dresses and two credit cards they sat on a bench in-front of a large fountain filled with ducks and a seal everyone fed different things to. Lydia leaned on his shoulder and after a couple of minutes Erica came with their food.

“How is your father?”

“He’s good - I think he is doing fine now.” He added later, uncertainty filling him once again.

“He looked very healthy to me, I’m glad.” Lydia said, easing him. Erica nodded, a small smile on her lips.

“How is Klaus?” Erica asked a couple of moments later.

“That was your real question from the start wasn’t it?” Stiles looked at her inquiringly.

“Totally, we already drove your father home.” She grinned.

He smiled. “Klaus is good.”

“Just good?” They looked at him disappointedly with a look that said ‘Feed me more details’.

“Well he’s quite perfect…” His voice wavered; describing Klaus became a labyrinth to him.  
  
“He’s very romantic… sometimes he’s a little too cheesy. He’s _really_ good in bed.”

“Oh my god, Stiles totally lost it to him.” He blushed and Erica threw her head back to laugh.

“He’s terribly shy, and sometimes a little weird.” He tried to avoid looking at them.

“Stiles, is there something your hiding from us?” Lydia asked - Erica’s eyes widened momentarily.

“Urm no…”

“You are happy right?”  
  
“Yes, yes I am. Just, things got a little complicated. I wanted things to be more… normal.” He sighed.

Lydia looked straight at him. “Honey, look around you, nothing is normal.”

A couple of kids were trying to feed the seal fries.

Erica was the one who broke out giggling first.

They dropped him off in-front of his house at eight; Stiles hoped that Klaus wasn’t too mad about them having to postpone everything. He was happy that he got to go out with Lydia, things were so easy with her, and Erica was an added bonus. He hoped that maybe, if they were to learn the truth about Klaus, they would be the most understanding of them all.

He sighed, fiddling with his keys and opening his door, it was already dark outside and his father had called to tell him that he was going to visit Melissa. Stiles resolutely decided _not_ to think about the relationship the two shared. He went upstairs to his room, switching his lights on to see Klaus sprawled on his bed, napping. At first he was about to yell in surprise but managed to shut his mouth fast enough. He wondered just for how long Klaus had been waiting for him.

He sat beside him, matching Klaus’ own position – a sideways crouch on the bed - and looking at his dozing face for a while before realizing that it was one level too creepy – even for him.

“Klaus, wake up.” Stiles kept his voice low, and by the third time Klaus’ eyes opened, he twisted around, groaning and moaning something unintelligible before diving back into the sheets. Stiles rolled his eyes. Stiles turned to face the ceiling, liking the silence.

“Hi.” Klaus said eventually, seemingly woken up.

“Slept well?” Stiles turned to face him.

“Yeah… I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s not your fault; sorry for taking so long, but once Lydia starts she never stops.”

“I hope this party will be worth it.” Klaus smiled intently.

“There will be booze, we can dance and you can do me in the hallway like you wanted and no one will find it creepy.”

“Seriously?” Klaus jerked up, intrigued.

Stiles smiled sheepishly. “No. But we can make out, a-lot.”

Klaus fell back into the sheets. “Well that at-least satisfies half of my fantasy.”

“You really have horrible ones.”  
  
“Ohh and chaining me to a spreader wide open is completely okay.” Klaus asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Naked.”

“Obviously. Let me guess, you want Derek to fuck me while I’m chained and spread.”

Stiles choked a little at that and an embarrassing sound came out of his mouth.

“I thought we were never to talk about that again.”

“You started it.” Klaus shrugged and Stiles straddled him.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.” Klaus brushed his own lips with Stiles’.

“You still haven’t told me everything.”

“I did.” Klaus’ brows furrowed.

“What will happen if you stop giving me energy? You can decide to just take energy from me. Stop sharing.”

“I’d never do that.”

“When you went away, I got sick – I felt like I was about to die.” Klaus rolled over him, pinning Stiles to the bed and planting deep wet kissing on his cheek, lowering to suck onto his collarbones.

“I had to see how our bond works, usually one needs a week to see clear results, but I couldn’t stay away that long.” Klaus looked away.

“I was literally dying without you wasn’t I?”

“You were weakening without my energy, so was I. Trust me, Stiles.” Klaus tore Stiles’ shirt open, moving down to his nipples and taking them in his mouth while stimulating the other with his fingers. Stiles moaned unintelligibly. Klaus pressed into him, hips pinning hips and members rubbing against each other, the friction caused both of them to shiver and pant breathlessly.

He moved back up to kiss Stiles, tongue exploring every corner of his mouth and glistening purple eyes making Stiles writhe under him.

“Were you… seeing how… much I… dep-end…” He tried to speak between pants but his brain was titillated, his whole body felt intoxicated by Klaus.

“Trust me.” He said before diving back into Stiles’ mouth.

“Klaus.” Stiles’ whispered hoarsely. Whatever part of his mind trying to protest was submerged and forsaken.

Klaus entered Stiles, penetrating him slowly as they tongued each other. Stiles could barely breathe, inhaling air desperately every time their mouths departed, only to lose it all again when Klaus’ lips pressed into his and explored him with his tongue incessantly.

He couldn’t feel his own legs, only the sharp pain as he felt Klaus’ shaft open him up and the slick motion of his own muscles as they clenched around the member. When Klaus bottomed out Stiles turned into a writhing mess, completely taken over by the spasms of pleasure that rocked through him every time Klaus rammed into his prostate.

* * *

  
He woke up lazily, the intense shafts of sunlight making him squirm and nauseous.

“Close the fucking curtains!” He groaned, but his face was still buried into the pillow and the words came out as unintelligible mumbles. He tried using his energy to close them but his mind was too foggy to concentrate, instead causing them to clatter dangerously.

“Stiles?” Klaus stood in the doorway, dressed up only in the same low hanging jeans he had yesterday with a cup of tea in his hand.

Stiles turned to face him, tearing his face off his pillow. “Morning. Close the curtains. Please.”

Klaus walked to the other side of the room, pulling the curtains down and moving to lie down besides Stiles.

“Want to come to my apartment?”

“Why?” Stiles asked – everything still too hazy.

“Mrs McCall and your father are downstairs.” He passed the tea to Stiles, who groaned painfully.

“Oh my god. Yes. Please, your apartment, definitely.”

They sneaked downstairs, making sure they aren’t heard and subsequently interrogated by the duo. Klaus went to get his Audi while Stiles strolled in the kitchen with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Morning Stiles.” Melissa nodded at him from where she was sitting by the table, her head over the steam coming up from her coffee.

“Morning.” He waved shyly.

“Dad, I’m going out for the day, I’ll try to be back early.”

“Stay out of trouble.”

Stiles offered a coy grin and went to the living room, exhaling in relief that the awkward moment was over. He had a feeling he’d be having more of those.

They went to Klaus’ apartment, and the smell of wax and blueberry reminded him of the first night he had spent there. Things were much simpler then; Klaus was just someone he had gone out with, a man – a kind stranger – who was nice and just _good_. The notion of Klaus not being human galvanised his mind and he started recollecting and re-organising his thoughts, finally waking up from the dazzling dullness that had accompanied him all morning. He had things to ask Klaus.

Not many things changed in Klaus’ apartment, there were less brown boxes lying around, and there were more candles spread over the rooms. There was a large wide window which covered the whole wall on the far side overlooking the streets and a u-shaped black sofa in-front of a large television besides it. Two large chandeliers dimming the area stood on each side of the sofa.

“I don’t like bulbs; I have a thing for candles. I find their light much more alluring.” Klaus remarked as he watched Stiles observe.

“I can see that… it is kind of beautiful.” There was a large chandelier standing at the entrance of the kitchen, which was just an arch away from the living room. Stiles glanced around, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“Switch on the T.V, I have some movies we can watch.” Klaus opened the fridge, bringing out lemonade and pouring it into the glass.

They spent the rest of the morning watching episodes of Grey’s anatomy, Klaus found all the cutting disturbing at first, but Stiles managed to convince him that there’s nothing better than seeing people opened up or having sex.

“I swear everyone who falls off on this show has a tumour or Alzheimer’s.”

Klaus lifted an eyebrow. “I thought you were more of a Game of thrones kind of guy.”

“I am.” He nodded, asserting that fact.

_So was Derek._

“But. I can’t let you see my nerd side yet.”

They moved on to watch the hunger games, and _that_ they both managed to enjoy. Stiles sighed; he knew that he’d have to ask Klaus that same question that kept tormenting him.

Was his life in Klaus’ hands? Could he live with depending on someone else completely? Those questions and tens of others swarmed up his mind like bees searching for their honey, only hoping they wouldn’t end up caught in the spider’s web along the way. Not again.

“Stiles.” He was slouched on the sofa, his head on resting on Klaus’ chest; Klaus was holding the bowl of popcorn low enough so they could both reach.

“Yeah?” Stiles slurred, the captivating scent in the house had seemingly hypnotizing him.

“I want to give you something.” Klaus lowered the bowl on the glass table, standing up and going to his bedroom. Stiles continued watching the movie, but his curiosity was piqued and only after a while he paused it and waited, fingers tapping against the glass table. He glanced around, the silent and dim atmosphere not helping with the exhaustion that had unwittingly crept into him. It made no sense for him to be this tired; he had slept for far longer than the usual. Besides, wasn’t Klaus supposed to be making him stronger? The sudden thought refreshed all the questions, which ones again appeared in his mind, yet this time they had no clarity or foundation, different from what they were before, this time they were a smudge, he had an entire constructed argument yet now he could only think of one question; could he trust Klaus that much? Could he live with being at another’s mercy?

Klaus came back from the room holding a small glass bottle; it looked like it held some kind of a drink. He went to sit beside Stiles, who had a baffled expression, and put the bottle on the table.

“I know that you’ve been confused, and that you’ve doubted me.” He began, face inches apart from Stiles’. For a moment it seemed like the light of the room had faded away entirely; the shadows seemed to have overtaken the lighter shades in the room. Gradually the embers coming from the candles and Klaus, who appeared surreally visible and contrasting against the looming darkness, were the only distinctive things he could see.

“What’s happening?” Stiles asked, alarmed yet feeling completely helpless and transfixed by Klaus’ gaze.

“Shh. Do not worry, Stiles.” He slid his hand around Stiles’ face, cupping his jaw and lifting Stiles’ head so that their eyes could meet. “I have something that can make you feel better, this tonic will help you clear your mind, and it will stop the confusion that you are feeling. It’ll help ease you.”  
  
Stiles tried to speak, but he couldn’t get anything out.

He tried again, but his mouth couldn’t move. His body was paralyzed, he felt himself hyperventilating. Stiles tried to glance around frantically, trying to show Klaus that he couldn’t do anything, trying to protest and to plead him to do _something_ about it, but not even his eyes were moving, petrified by Klaus’ penetrating purple eyes.

“Stiles?”

“Hnnh… Hnn”

“Stiles?!” Klaus suddenly started blinking rapidly, the glistening purple dulling itself to a light blue. Stiles gasped for air, suddenly out of the breathless sinking feeling which was enveloping him.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Stiles. I’m so sorry.” Klaus was frantic, but Stiles’ eyes were full of panic and terror. He crawled backwards out of the sofa and ran to the bathroom, locking himself in.

He held onto the sink and sobbed, too overwhelmed by what had happened, by the fact that he had felt his consciousness slowly fading away. He almost drowned, whatever and however that could have happened, he was about to _die_. Realization struck him, was it like that for those who weren’t covenants? For those who were completely normal? Were they devoured by that darkness within a course of a few hours? Was he going to end up like them? A puppet?

“Stiles, I am sorry. I didn’t even notice, I wanted that you accepted me so badly that I didn’t think it was effecting you, I swear it wasn’t on purpose. Stiles.” Klaus’ voice lulled from behind the door. Stiles looked towards the door and then back around the room; his vision fell on the shower, rekindling the memories of the morning after their first date. It used to be wonderful, now it nauseated him, made him shudder in fear. He wanted to go back to that day, that day when everything was much clearer, when it was easy and simple and just nice.

“Stiles, I know it’s difficult, but I promise you that the tonic will make everything clear again.” Klaus’ pleading voice snapped him out of his momentary daze.

“How can I fucking trust you?”

“Stiles, you know that I want this to be real. More than anything.” Stiles stared at his own reflection in the mirror. Klaus was right; he had explained this to him. So why was he so apprehensive about it? He had nothing left for him besides Klaus; so why was he still holding on? An image of Derek appeared behind him in the reflection and for a moment he was about to grin. That sour scowl imprinted on Derek’s face captivated him, that black jacket – that smile which formed slowly in those moments. He remembered it all too well.

“Stiles.” Klaus’ voice snapped him out of it. He blinked rapidly. The only one in the reflection was him. There was no one else. No one. He had to fucking move on, everyone else did. This was his turn. In some twisted way, this was his turn.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Klaus’ smooth voice shifted into that of sudden relief.

He opened the door and Klaus embraced him, pressing into him and giving him a long enthralling kiss.

They moved to the living room and sat down on the couch. Stiles took the tonic in his hand. He opened the tap and looked into Klaus’ glistening eyes

Everything was going to be all-right. He repeated it to himself, willing himself to believe it.

He swallowed. Lifted his hands up to his mouth, the tonic touching his lips, and drank it slowly, watching Klaus’ eyes narrow in delight.

* * *

Derek was outside the library, looking at the trees while letting the musky earthy smell fill his senses. From behind the large window Lydia was looking at him, she had just finished preparing everything, everyone was ready. Jackson and Boyd spent the afternoon sparring in the backyard while Derek, Scott and Boyd were in the woods; the betas attacking the alpha in each possible way. They would have had very little chance in a fair fight, but Lydia bought weight beads and asked Deaton to enhance them, increasing their mass tenfold.

Derek didn’t have an easy evening.

Erica sparred with Peter, he had been mentoring both her and Derek for a while, and keeping with the same pattern was the best way to delude him into thinking they were still oblivious.

She went out of the library from the backdoor and approached Derek.

“Hey.” She passed him a glass of water.

He nodded at her and took the water, drinking it and relishing the cold feeling.

“I can’t believe you bought me a suit.” He smiled and looked down.

“Well, we can’t have you running in a black leather jacket in a party now can we?”

“I don’t have to be there before the fight.”

“You’ll _have_ to be there, before and after.” Her voice turned serious, and the implication spoke volumes.

“When Klaus dies-“The confidence is her voice was clear, her heart rhythm steady and as certain. “Stiles will be broken, he’ll have no one, and he’ll shatter completely.”

The tone of her voice was sharp, almost accusatory – demanding.

“I know.” He replied.

Derek stared at the woods, the sun had almost set and the shadows were drawing out, gradually darkening everything.

“Someone needs to be there for him, to pick up the pieces.”

He nodded, their gaze was still fixed towards the obscured branches, the outgrown leaves shined green, contrasting the obfuscating background, and the water droplets trapped on them illuminated a blue - green translucent light.

“Will you be able to do that?”

“How can I know that I’m the right person for him? I’m not even sure he feels the same…” He looked down, doubt spiralling once again.

“Derek. Do you remember every time you were with him? Just you - and him.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I almost threatened him every time.” He aimed for a joke but Lydia didn’t smile.

Some animals hustled in the underbrush, causing the green to shake and everything to wake up as if alive for a moment before settling down in a newly found peaceful slumber.

He didn’t spend a lot of time with Stiles, every time they had moments alone they were both too tense, everything around them got too silent and their actions too conspicuous.

Derek remembered Stiles well, how he fidgeted and moved continuously, self-conscious and trying to fill in the blanks with too many words, sentences way too long. What Derek liked most was his heartbeat, the constant erratic beat that silenced everyone else’ – it was too different. Everyone else’s was normal and steady, his bet with an intensity just a notch higher, just enough to stand out. He never told Stiles anything; he never suggested what his instincts begged him to just let out. When he asked Scott if he found Stiles’ heart beat different from the others, he had replied that he didn’t. Derek knew what it meant, he wasn’t that misinformed, and the knowing looks Peter gave him just confirmed everything.

Derek’s whole body shook with rage and resentment; the idea of killing his last family member for the second time was painful. He had thought Peter had changed, had managed to see things clearly, he wanted to believe that Peter had become the uncle he used to love and look up to.

He was a fool, a fool who made one mistake after the other.

The truth was, each time he thought that no one cared. Those moments when he stopped being needed and became wanted were those moments where he was with Stiles. When Stiles had saved him again and again, he had seen the look of utter despair in Stiles’ eyes when Derek was slipping away on the cold floor, when he wanted to embrace the welcoming darkness that was looming – when he thought that bullet in his arms was going to finally set him free. Stiles was _there_. He had ignored it. Ignored it when Stiles spent three hours holding him up in the water; when Derek heard his heart clench and beat in painful exhaustion, his muscles twisting in pain as they were pushed beyond their limits. He had ignored it when Stiles gave up the thing most important to him – being there for his father – to help him. He shut his eyes and watched a reel of pictures slide across his mind. Pictures of Stiles, with those light brown eyes wide contrasting against his words, they were a paradox – the words coming out incessantly telling one story, but his eyes conveying another – one could get lost in between the two, trying to figure which one is true. He could conjure up all those times when Stiles looked at him with a glance that said ‘talk back to me’ – and Derek never did, he never let his walls crumble down, instead he always let them open for the wrong people.

The winds made the trees sway, causing the leaves to quiver and drops of water to fall, the shimmers of blue and green lost their pattern and made everything blend together in a strange translucent colour.

“He’s my mate.” He stated, eyes looking up again.

Everything was clear. Stiles had tried to get close to him, but Derek never let him in, what he had experienced had broken him and made him inaccessible. Now he finally managed to open his eyes.

Stiles had helped fix the world for him, now it was his turn to return the favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter reveals interesting details and lights up parallels in both Derek's and Stiles' characters.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, comments are more than welcome, they help and guide me, and I appreciate them very much. xx!
> 
> P.S: I know that the big fight scene should have happened in this chapter, but I had to make sure everything is built up perfectly. I promise it will happen in the next chapter.


	10. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To realize the value of a friend  
> Lose one.

Stiles was in the middle of a room he didn’t recognize; he was standing in-front of a large bed with spreads one darker than the other. His movements were alien, as if he was hovering several feats away and controlling his body mechanically. He looked around, something about the place was strangely familiar, yet all the colours were alien and _wrong_. Everything was coloured in different shades of grey, the wall was an ugly old darkened white, and the floor was surreally white; almost non-existent looking. A large chandelier with three long black candles standing beside the door caught his attention and made him realize he was in Klaus’ bedroom. He glanced around, but Klaus wasn’t anywhere. When he exhaled the sound was unrealistically loud, like wind soughing against objects and creating a vibrating howling sound.

Was he dreaming?

Images of what had happened appeared like portraits in his mind, one flash blinking after the other in a steady rhythm. He drank the tonic and then… he must have fallen asleep. Was he in his own sub consciousness? Was that even possible?

He had trusted Klaus to make everything clear and when he tried to recall why, he simply couldn’t. Everything had always been clear – of that, he was certain; then why had he been so confused? Tormented? Was it really that complicated? He had a bond with Klaus, who would never take advantage of it, who treated Stiles like he was a treasure – then why would he mistrust Klaus? He wasn’t the one who forget all about him.

Derek was. _Derek_. Suddenly the reason as to why he was so hesitant to letting Klaus in popped up in his mind; it was vaguely surreal, how everything seemed to be perfectly easy here. When awake, he couldn’t focus on a single thought without hundreds of others tagging along, changing. Now, he just had to think of something, and it hovered to his mind alone and unaccompanied by the others.

He didn’t want to let Klaus in - he was so hesitant, because he wanted to hold on to the possibility of being with Scott and the others, to the possibility of being with _Derek_. He wanted to laugh at how preposterous and far-fetched the latter idea seemed to him now that he was lucid, but he couldn’t make himself smile – he didn’t have such detailed control of his body, not from where he stood. He felt removed, like a ghost hovering around himself, tightly bound but unable to get into his own body.

He had to move on from his delusions, to let go of everything which held him back.

“Stiles?” A voice broke into the silence.

Slowly the different grayscale shades in the room blended together into a dark black void and he was sucked in.

“Stiles?” Stiles gasped, he tried to jerk up but the weight of the sheets slowed his reaction down. He was in Klaus’ bed and Klaus was near him, a cup of water and a silver tray with sandwiches in his hands.

“Where am I?” The question was futile, he knew where he was, yet he felt incredibly disoriented.

Klaus quivered an eyebrow. “Is everything all-right?”

“Uhh… Yes… What happened?” He rubbed his eyes, the colours were all back – he wasn’t dreaming now.

“You drank the tonic and slowly drifted into sleep – I think you were just exhausted.”

Stiles reached up for the water, gulping the content down hungrily. “God what was that flavour. It was horrible.” He winced, drinking more of the water to relieve himself of the atrocious taste. Klaus rubbed the back of his head and smiled.

“Yeah… I tried it, it was kinda bad.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Kind of?! It tasted of rotten eggs and stale milk mixed with ancient whiskey!” Stiles whined, falling back into the warm sheets.

Klaus didn’t disagree. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know… are you sure it worked? I don’t really feel different.” He shrugged.

“I’m not sure myself, my friend told me it was supposed to help you, ease your mind.” He gestured with his hand, confused.

“Your friend?”

“He has been… helping me with some stuff… for some time.” Klaus’ voice wavered, the question seemingly taking him by surprise.

“Well. Okay. I guess everything is more… quiet, I feel much more relaxed.”

“So… Do you still have any questions?”

“Everything is good. I trust you. I guess, I don’t think you’ll take advantage of me.” Stiles looked around, self-conscious.

Klaus smiled, lips curving upwards involuntarily.

“Now you have to keep taking it, just for a while until things get a little less confusing.” Klaus got into the bed, covering himself up with the sheets as well; he was only wearing jet black briefs, Stiles didn’t know if Fey felt cold, but from the way Klaus dived into the sheets he figured they did. Klaus picked the tray from the adjacent nightstand where he had put it. They ate the sandwiches in an easy silence while Stiles rested his head cushioned on Klaus’ arm, his skin was smooth and warm. Dazzling. Stiles wanted to stay like that forever – lying in bed, covered in blankets, resting easy while shafts of sunlight slowly crept through the curtains. Everything was perfect.

It was Monday, but the Christmas holidays had begun and were to last for three weeks; Stiles couldn’t believe how fast time had passed, it felt like yesterday when he first met Klaus, in reality it had been more than two months.

They were going to go to the park later, but the sunlight was quickly overshadowed by clouds waiting to rain down on the town and the cold had remained constant but brutal.

So they decided to stay, watch movies and have sex.

_Lots of sex._

They deflowered each corner of Klaus’ apartment, exchanging positions and dragging each other to the limits of pleasure.

“I have to go buy some stuff.” Klaus said between pants, they were on the couch; Stiles was lying horizontally on Klaus, settled between his legs; thrusting forward and backwards relentlessly, the pleasure caused by the friction as their dicks rubbed against each other causing them to moan fervently.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asked as he gave an upward thrust.

“Totally. I’m close.”

“Not that. I mean, totally that, but I wasn’t referring to that, I was referring to the shopping.” He drew back and cupped their members, jerking both of them simultaneously.

Klaus moaned. “It’s- okay, I won’t be long, you stay… here and… think of new… activities.”

Stiles laughed, letting his head fall besides Klaus’ as they reached their climax

* * *

“Did the potion work?” The sun was drawing down, finally steering itself from the ominous clouds and turning everything blends of peach and orange. Peter was leaning against a large tree trunk, a mile away from the hale apartment, wearing a satisfied smile and crossing his arms.

  
“Yes, it did.” Klaus nodded, coming out of the path and into the small clearing where Peter stood.

“So everything is going as planned?”

“Yes, do you want me to give you your share of the bond?” Klaus asked, looking up to the older man.

“No, Derek will immediately notice, downside of being part of the pack – I’ll wait till the very last moment, I haven’t done a flash appearance the first time, I’ll make sure to fix that this time.”

“They suspect nothing? What about Scott?” Klaus’ voice was eerie.

“They are convinced Scott is just having trouble – being jealous.” Peter pulled himself off the tree, getting closer to Klaus.

“Everything will happen on Saturday, will you and Stiles be ready by then?”

“Yes,” Klaus looked into Peter’s eyes. “What about you? Will you really be capable of murdering your own nephew?”

“Before I died I didn’t know whether to feel pity, or hatred towards him. When I did die, I realized that there truly is no heaven – or hell. Don’t mistake me, I’m not a believer, but when I recognized that even my last hope at seeing my family proved futile – when everything was just black and empty - everything changed. Now I look into his eyes and all I feel is hate and rage.”

“Killing him won’t bring your family back.”

“No, but it will amplify my power, and yours and Stiles. An alpha, a fey and a covenant.”

Klaus’ eyes narrowed. “I heard that before.”

“I will be able to use Stiles to revive them.”

“You’re sick. How do you think they will react when they find out how you brought them back? You might end up killing Stiles too.”

“If I’m ready to kill my own nephew, what makes you think I’m not ready to kill Stiles?”

Klaus’s hands drew into fists, tightening as Peter’s words dragged on. He moved forward, looming over the older man.

“That. Is. Not. Happening.”

“The way I see it you don’t have much of a choice, we both know that Stiles will never fully be yours without that tonic.”

Klaus’ eyes widened for a moment, before turning impassive again – trying to regain his composure.

“And you are the only one who can procure the tonic.” He concluded.

Peter’s lips curved up. “Yes.”

Klaus fixed his gaze upon him, eyes filled with murderous intent yet held behind bars of trepidation and fear.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment; the moment when I get to black-mail you that is. I know the one thing a Fey craves most for is the fluttering delight of having a complete, absolute and unwavering bond. The more difficult their conquests, the more addictive the game becomes. Stiles is simply perfect, he’s the one challenge you can never overcome without my help.”

“He’ll die if he performs such a thing.”

“If we get him to absorb the power of the entire pack, he won’t.” Peter’s voice turned low, eyes fixed on Klaus’, hinting the solution.

“Absorb?” Klaus’ brows furrowed – uncomprehending.

Peter stepped back and raised three fingers. “Covenants have three base abilities, the obvious ones are the ability to manipulate their energy, which is the most basic and the foundation of their skills, and the ability to transform energy, which gives them amazing offensive prowess,” He closed two fingers as he explained, leaving his index finger open. “The third one is the ability to absorb energy, a pure covenant draws energy from the bonds they make, and a dark one can absorb the energy forcefully.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“Research.” Peter shrugged nonchalantly, Klaus glared at him. “What can I say, I’m a book person. That and I have spent every second of my second life trying to find a way.”

“You see, a Fey seduces an individual and sucks the life and power out of them, much like baking food and eating it once it’s cooked. That enhances all of your physical attributes, the more powerful you become, the more efficient your seduction becomes. In a way you are not that different from Stiles. The sources of your power come from others, only yours is; well, dirtier.” Peter finished, stance relaxing.

“And werewolves?”

“Werewolves draw power from each other, being in a pack makes a werewolf stronger. It’s their source.”

“So Covenants are the only ones who can choose how to draw power – whether to draw it from bonds, or absorb it?”

“And the ones most who are affected most by it, Deaton used to draw power from my family, but once that connection was broken he became relatively useless, permanently so. The stronger the bond, the harsher the consequences if it is broken. Amanda tried to get her power back by absorption, but it nearly drew her crazy, her body had adapted to a source, and couldn’t handle such a change.”

“If Stiles absorbs the power of werewolves, he’ll become too strong, even I wouldn’t be able to control him.”

“No.” Peter shook his head, seemingly having expected Klaus’ conclusion. “There is one drawback of a covenant forcefully absorbing energy instead of drawing it from bonds; it makes them lose control - unstable.”

Klaus’ eyes widened as he realised what Peter was getting it.

“…and that will make him easier to fall for whatever you say,” Peter drew a long breath, smiling. “So are you in? Or are you not?” His voice barely suppressed his glee.

Klaus looked at him, and he knew he should feel fear or wonder, but instead all he felt was pity for the man who had completely succumbed to despair. He wondered if by giving Stiles the potion, he too had succumbed to his own hopelessness; if by giving Stiles the potion, he ended up losing what he wanted most forever.

Someone real.

* * *

 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Lydia shrieked - they were all cuddled up in the couch, having decided to watch Beautiful Minds after eating. Allison and Erica cooked chicken breast and they were all full and spent.

“Well, he said he had to go do something important. Didn’t give me any details, you know how Peter is.” Erica rolled her eyes, falling on the couch between Isaac and Boyd.

“And you didn’t trail him?”  Lydia jerked up, glowering at her.

“He’s a werewolf too, remember? It’s not like I can sense him from as far as Derek can – speaking of Derek, where is he?” Erica looked around.

“Hyperventilating in _the_ room.” Jackson said with a smirk.

“Or jerking off.” Scott tipped his head to a side, enlightening himself with unwanted images.

“I give up.” Lydia threw her hand in the air and fell back, furious.

“Calm down, everything will play out just as we planned, we can’t take him down before the party anyways, Klaus will notice.”

Lydia nodded, leaning into Jackson, who sometimes managed to say the right thing, and allow her to breathe.

* * *

 

Stiles was in heaven. Not literally, obviously, but he was in that moment when the happy place and the actual place became very close to being one.

Actually Klaus was on the couch, and Stiles was straddling him.

And he was tiddly. He felt drunk, like he had been drinking vodka shots mixed with Sambuca all day, he was completely and utterly wasted, and he loved it.

“Do you have Sambuca?” He asked when their lips finally lost contact.

Klaus’ shirt was half open, jeans’ zip half down, hair muffled and looking completely and utterly wrecked. “I’m not sure it mixes well with the tonic.”

“Oh come on, I’ve had it hours ago,” He had it only twenty minutes earlier, but a rush of excitement coiled into him and he felt frenzied.

“Besides, I don’t care. Stiles wants to have fun and he shall have it.” He points to the ceiling, trying to make a logical argument before settling his gaze on Klaus, his voice turning into a husky commanding whisper.

“So. Give. Me. The. Damn. Sambuca.” Suddenly two liquor bottles hovered towards them from the Kitchen, settling on the glass table clumsily.

Klaus looked petrified while Stiles smiled, satisfied.

“Okay. Should I be aware of ghosts or was that your doing?”

“Let’s go with ghosts, they love Stiles, hence and therefore are doing his bidding.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes.

“You did that didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He nodded, over exaggerating the gesture. “I think my energy is a little out of control.” Stiles reached out for the Sambuca, he was wearing only boxer briefs, he knew he should be feeling cold, but instead he felt ridiculously flushed and hot and he needed _things_. Stiles twisted and extended to take the liquor in his hand, not wanting to disentangle himself from Klaus, his abs flexed as he stretched; he felt Klaus harden underneath him and he smirked deviously.

They kissed again, tongues exploring each other’s mouth while Stiles opened the Sambuca. He gulped down as much as he could before he tongued Klaus again, exchanging the filthy taste of alcohol and saliva. The liquor dripped from their mouths, slithering throughout their chests.

They giggled as they made out, falling off the couch and onto the mattress, rolling on the floor.

Later, they had sex on said bare floor, Stiles on all fours as Klaus penetrated him from behind, incessantly and passionately. They moaned and kissed as they reached their climax, as Klaus jerked him off and licked his body as if it was made of honey.

“Klaus, I think I love you.” Stiles said as he leaned with his head on his chest.

“I love you too. So much.”

They lied on the floor afterwards, hearing each other’s breathing relaxing into a slow steady rhythm. Klaus tried to smile, but a sense of overwhelming guilt and foreboding trepidation bound him to the ground.

“Stiles, I am sorry.” He muttered, too low for Stiles, who was dozing off, to hear.

* * *

 

Stiles woke up with a colossal headache. He was lying on the floor with Klaus, everything was sticky with booze, sex and sweat, their smell mixed with the waxy ever-present scent in the room nauseated him. Stiles lurched up; Klaus was lying with his head resting on his arms, facing the floor. The long line of his back, arching smoothly as he breathed was seductively ostentatious. Stiles’ eyes gazed down to Klaus’ ass, drenched cum lied in between his butt cheeks.  He drew his hands to his disarrayed hair, and decided to stand up. He realized he was naked as well, and the soreness started creeping unto him – a cruel reminder that they might have went too overboard.

He sauntered to the bathroom, rinsing his face with water and washing his teeth before setting the shower’s water running. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, he looked good; He was a little paler than usual, but his body was slender yet well-toned, his jaw jutted out, and he could see his biceps flex as he moved. He was satisfied, actually he was more than satisfied; he felt flawless. He smirked and his echo in the mirror did the same, except it’s eyes turned completely black.

He jerked back and turned away from the mirror - shocked. He blinked several times, trying to make it go away. Finally he looked back at the mirror, his replica was completely normal.

He exhaled in relief.

It was just his imagination. It had to be.

 _Just my imagination._ He repeated it to himself, his words turning into pleas unconsciously. _Stiles, don’t be stupid, it is nothing._

He closed his eyes and channelled his energy, focusing it where his eyes lay. Black veins appeared and crept around his eyelids, and a few second later his pupil started darkening, its golden light dimming into a hollow black.

Stiles jerked his hand up, wanting to touch his eyes, but there was something different. He could see everything. He didn’t see molecules or anything like that, nor did he see everything in 3d. No, it was different than that; as his hands moved up; he saw image by image as if everything was moving in slow motion, or rather, his eyes were working at double speed. He was seeing frame by frame, not just the start and end point of his movements, but everything in between.

It disoriented him, it was too _alien_. He wondered in awe what other attributes he would gain for every part of his body he focused his energy on, up till now all he could do was focus his energy into his arms for stronger punches, or his legs for more movement. This was poles apart. This was _fantastic_.

It also scared the crap out of him.

He could channel his energy, manipulate it out of his body and even transform it into fire.

The thought of what else he could do should have made him jump in glee, instead all he could feel was agitation.

He didn’t want this life. He had imagined his life would be fighting alongside Derek and others, be a part of the family. They were his home, and even when he was left out, even when he was with Klaus, a part of him still recognized them as _home_ more than anything else. A dark whisper echoed in his mind, husky and brutal: ‘ _Even more than Klaus could ever be’_.

He shrugged, shaking his head; he had to let that go. It was easy now, not thinking about them felt like hiding a canvas behind a dark curtain, the longer it stayed covered the more blurry its memory it become …and the more he wanted to go back and take one last glance.

He could trust Klaus. He had nothing to fear. Klaus had been honest to him. Klaus was the one there for him, no one else. Klaus might not have been his happy place, but he was his safe place. He was his sanctuary.

And he’d ruin anyone who tried destroying that for him.

Stiles’ gaze fell on the mirror and he watched, with hollow black eyes, picture by picture as his lips curved up into an alien, cruel smile.

He went into the shower, and let the water run down his body, head bowed down as he felt himself slipping away.

It’d all be better once he took tonic.

* * *

“We’re gonna be late’” Scott said, hyperventilating.

“It’s only seven, Scott – the party won’t start before nine. We’re seniors, remember?”

“I can’t believe it’s today, this week passed so fast.”  Scott was standing in-front of the mirror in his room; Allison was fixing up his tie.

“Lydia was right; you do look perfect in a black fitted suit.”

“How the hell am I going to move in this?” He groaned, trying hopelessly to move his hands around.

“It’s called taking off your blazer, then you’ll just be in a white shirt and… really tight pants.” She looked down to his legs, blushing slightly as she concluded that he might have a point.

“Wait, try to stretch your legs.” Scott looked at her, dumbfounded.

“No, they’ll tear, and then Lydia will kill me.” His eyes were wide with panic.

“Scott,” She tugged on the material. “The material is elastic; you’ll be able to move just fine.”

He watched as the black fabric stretched out from her tug, and fitted right back in.

“Just how much does this thing cost anyway?”

Allison sighed. “It’s better if we remain in the dark about that; let’s get back to your tie.”

“You don’t have to be nervous.” Allison smiled at him once she finished arranging it, trying to soothe him.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Maybe a little.” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

“It’s okay to worry though; he’s your friend after-all.” She nodded, fixing her dress one last time, it wasn’t very tight, and she made sure she could move affectively in it; if things were to get too rough, she had black tight fitted clothes underneath.

“Not lately he wasn’t.”

“Scott, you can’t blame him for-“

“No, I mean,” He looked sideways, self-conscious. “When everything fell back to normal after the alpha pack, and I had you and I trained with Isaac, Stiles sort of became… I wasn’t even considering him, he remained important, but… you know - I sort of abandoned him.”

“It’s not your fault, Scott, people find new friends and connections all the time, and perhaps we all made a mistake, taking him for granted. That doesn’t mean we don’t care about him.”

“True.”

“…What will happen if we kill Klaus? Do you think he’ll start hanging with us again?” He hoped she’ll answer positively, but her momentary hesitation gave her away.

“Maybe.” She smiled – unconvincingly.

“Or maybe we’ll have to move on. I guess.” Scott concluded - a forced smile on his lips. Allison nodded.

“It’s kind of ironic.” He sat on his bed.

“What is?” Allison sat next to him, letting him wrap an arm around her.

“Everything… before I barely noticed when he was around, for months I barely spent any time with him and it was okay, ‘cause he was there, you know, still an option - I felt safe. But when I realized that he wasn’t there anymore, it was... I don’t know.” Scott looked down, conflicted.

“Many times we don’t realize someone’s true value until we lose them.” She stared at the mirror, and an image of her mother flickered through her mind, causing a heavy lump to settle in her throat.

“Yeah…”

“But we have a chance to get him back, and trust me Scott, that is more than anyone can ask for.”

“I won’t screw it up this time.” Scott looked at her – determined – and she smiled, pressing her forehead against his.

* * *

 

“He isn’t anywhere.” Derek’s aggravated voice was on the other of the line. Lydia was sitting on a deck chair in-front of her pool; this was her fifth call in a row, and the second one from Derek.

“No one saw him anywhere since Monday.” He added.

“Okay, Peter isn’t our main concern; we’ll deal with him after we deal with Klaus. Just. Are you ready?”

“I just finished showering, will be ready soon. Are you sure I shouldn’t wear something more… flexible?”

“Absolutely not, everything is Armani and tailored – I went shopping with Erica for suits, but remembered that we needed something better, so I pulled in some contacts with Danny and made sure to get the very best.” Her voice was prideful, as if it was the most important part of the night, which probably – for Lydia – was.

She snickered, imagining Derek in the black jacket, white shirt, red tie and the tight pants – everything was Armani, of course, she even bought underwear.

“You’ll be flawless, just be there at nine thirty.”

“Wasn’t the party starting at nine?”

She rolled her eyes. “It is fashionable to be a little late, besides going to these kinds of parties early is like holding a banner ‘I never went out before.’ to the student board.”

“Okay…”

The Christmas Eve party was more of an annual clubbing disco the seniors held where everyone could get boozed, high and subsequently laid. The actual Christmas party was held on the twenty first, but only the freshmen attended.

Jackson came out from the back door and joined her, a shot of jack Daniel in his hand and a martini for her. He was ready; of course, he was the only one who didn’t need anything bought, his Gucci Marseille suit fitted slimly against him. She gave him a once over and realized that his glass was full once again, apparently Jackson took well to the idea that it was much harder to get drunk when one is a werewolf, he sure appreciated the challenge.

Although she doubted he was going to stay sober for long at the rate he was drinking.

“See you, do not worry about Peter. Tonight it’s about Stiles.” She ended the call, putting her phone on the table besides her and taking the martini. She was quite sure she too needed to be at-least a little tipsy to go through the upcoming evening.

“Everything all-right?” Jackson sat beside her, hands beneath his head, lying on the deck chair.

“Peter still hasn’t appeared.” She winced at the bitter tingling sensation of the alcohol as it travelled down her throat.

“Maybe he ran off, shame, I was looking forward to seeing his face fall in dismay.”

They sighed together, a moment of silence falling upon them.

“The limo is coming to pick us off at nine after picking Allison and Scott.”

“So everything’s good?”

“Not as planned, but good nonetheless.”

* * *

 

Stiles felt Klaus’ hands warm around his middle, slithering through his chest.

“You look amazing.” Klaus said in a husky voice, whispering in his ear. Stiles stared at him from the mirror; both of them were smirking at each other’s reflections. Klaus was ready, and Stiles just finished buttoning his black vest, his silver tie contrasting spectacularly against the jet black fabric.

“What about perfume?” Stiles tilted his head sideways, pressing against Klaus’ own. He drew back, not wanting to leave any Jell from his styled hair on Klaus’ cheeks – _he might have used magic to style his hair just how he wanted._ Klaus kissed the upper side of his neck, just under his ears.

Stiles let out a subtle moan. “Hands off, that’s for _after_.” He demanded, but his voice wavered.

“It’s your fault, you’re too tempting… God…” Klaus inhaled, and it looked like he was sniffing his own personal brand of drugs.

“I’ll get the perfume.” Klaus said. The perfume was Chanel, and it looked like its price tag included _a-lot_ of numbers.

“Money isn’t a problem for you isn’t it?” He concluded, quivering up a brow.

“Not at all… I have _ways_.” He smiled teasingly as he sprayed over his wrist and rubbed it over his hands.

Stiles did the same. “Your Audi or my Jeep?”

“I think my Audi wins in these kinds of situations.” Klaus’ hands were once again all over Stiles. Touching was a healthy and much appreciated part of their relationship.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Are you insulting my Jeep?” He asked suspiciously.

“Never.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Comments & Suggestions are more than welcomed.
> 
> P.S: The next chapter is finished :3


	11. Sanctuary II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning that this chapter includes various violent themes.

Lydia was the last one to get out of the limo, Jackson taking her by her hand as they walked behind the others.

Scott and Allison were the first in their line, walking towards the opened doors of the Hall. The heavy dance and house music thumped all over the building, roaring in their ears. Groups of guys and girls stood close together around the entrance, half of them staring helplessly in awe. A couple of guys swallowed slowly at the sight of the school’s top three beauties. Jackson and Scott were both suppressing a smile and Derek – Derek was _trying_ to smile, which was good; really good except that there were girls strolling closer to both him and Isaac, half hoping they were single and available – or fearing that they might be together.

April danced her way to Isaac, Scott’s eyebrows quivered up; pleased. Everyone knew that the cherry red head and the king of jaws (or so half the students dubbed Isaac) have been hanging close during the past months, tip toeing each other. Isaac took her hand and she smiled, she looked dazzling; petite figure, cute small face, paper white skin – he was mesmerised by her. The two of them fell behind Derek, who was currently being ambushed; he scowled at the advances in return – earning a glower from Lydia.

They made their way in; there were a couple making out beside the doorway and others – in various positions – stranded out nearby. It was dark, the strobe lights were the one thing lighting the room as they twisted and curled around in different algorithms. Everything was decorated in silver, black and white; including the balloons attached to the arches and appliances. Everyone was chatting and drinking about; some hot headed guys were already staggering helplessly and slurring words. The seniors valued this party more than the final one they held after the exams, as by then most of the students would have already moved on to something new and forgot all about high school.

There were couples taking photos in the open area, smiling cheerily as they held onto each other, trying to hold their eyes open through the flashes. The doors were all opened wild, allowing a soft breeze to settle in the hall and the cold air to blend with the stench of alcohol.

Lydia and Jackson were the first to mix in with the others, the organisers immediately crowding Lydia and thanking her for her help with the decorations and theme. She smiled - taking and returning the compliments. Scott looked around for Stiles, but there were too many people, all dressed in different shades of black suites.

“Relax, Lydia will text us when it’s time.” Allison shouted the first word, but whispered the rest when he winced - remembering his super hearing.

Scott wrapped his hands around her low back, pulling her close and taking her into a kiss. He looked over to Erica, who had seemingly just broken a guy’s heart by tonguing Boyd shamelessly in-front of her half deflated – half aroused audience.

Derek was in the back, leaning against the wall while talking to two girls who were trying _way_ too hard.

Fifteen minutes passed and suddenly the group, who was slowly disentangling and spreading apart, turned to the entrance. Jackson nudged Lydia and Allison followed Scott’s gaze. Stiles and Klaus arrived. Derek stared at them, blocking out everyone and everything, a looming kind of silence fell between them that not even the loud music broke.

Stiles nodded at them, leaning into Klaus as they were flashed by cameras and stared by half the hall. Even Danny, who arrived with the group but immediately sauntered off with his own date, didn’t get this much attention - Danny being the most popular and lusted after guy in school. It was a well-known fact that Danny wasn’t popular because he hanged around with Jackson; Jackson was popular because he hanged with Danny. A cruel hand wrapped around Derek’s heart, twisting it a little – a beaten grimace took over his face reluctantly. One of the girls, a tall brunette with long hair and a body belonging on the Elle cover magazine called for him, and he turned to her, a forced smile on his face.

Lydia gulped down another martini before strolling towards Stiles, preparing to engage the duo in a friendly conversation - It was part of the plan after all. She realized with foreboding anticipation that now she _definitely_ wasn’t going to get through the night sober.

By thirty minutes to midnight the party blossomed, the large platform in the middle of the hall was filled with people jumping and dancing together, bodies sweating and booze slick and messy on the floor. There were several hired waiters passing shots of all kinds around and the open bar was filled with guys shouting orders, trying to get heard over the music. There were some couples on the wooden stairs at one side making out, lost in their own drunken state of lust. Ten seconds after the DJ announced the time they all received Lydia’s text.

_Get ready._

Scott and Allison looked at the message and nodded, slowing down their dance as they matched up with the rhythm of the new song.  Jackson and Boyd went to find Derek, who was standing still outside of the hall, besides the entrance – a Jaeger bomb in his hands. Allison gave Scott a longing kiss, pressing lips and exploring each other’s mouth as if they’re a novelty.  
  
“Be safe.” He shouted over the music, embracing her tightly.

“It’ll be fine, I promise.” She smiled, relieved that Scott wasn’t protesting – he had made it clear he didn’t like the idea of her being close to Klaus for any period of time. Then again, Allison was _Allison_ , spending a year trained under the tutelage of a veteran hunter and an alpha made her as deadly as a woman could get.

She quickly located Klaus, who had Stiles pressed up against the wall. They were making out, astray in each other. Allison kissed Scott again, keeping her eyes locked on them. The music switched to Thirteen Senses – into the fire, she smirked – She loved that one, it got her in the right mood. The crowd calmed down, now all the couples embraced and danced to the slow tune.

Klaus disentangled from Stiles and Allison watched as Lydia walked towards them, her graceful walk belonging to a model even after all the shots she had gulped down. If it wasn’t for previous experiences she would have believed Lydia was immune to alcohol as well. After a couple of moments Lydia dragged Stiles onto the platform, wrapping her arms around his neck and dancing with him.

Klaus’ gaze flickered to Allison, gaze locking momentarily. “Catch me.” She whispered to Scott, her voice was barely audible and the music drowned it completely for anyone besides Scott to hear. She stepped on some booze and allowed herself to slip – Scott caught her midway. He smiled, and she tipped her head back and laughed. They danced for a while longer, pressing their foreheads against each other for some seconds before she pulled away and walked towards Klaus, who was leaning with his back against the wall, a drink in his hand.

“Klaus, may I talk to you?” She smiled dazzlingly, hoping the tips Erica gave her worked. He nodded, a little confused, but pleased.

She gestured towards the backdoor, leading to the school halls and started walked towards it. They side walked the platform and went around the wooden benches, finally opening the door – whilst earning some knowing looks from a couple of guys – and going into the hallway.

To her relief, there weren’t many people there.

“Is everything all-right?” Klaus looked down at her, she was only a couple of inches shorter and the way he acted wasn’t intimidating at all, rather it was inviting.  
  
“Urm yes, the party is pretty great. I’m Allison btw, we never really talked before.” She turned to him as they walked through the hallway, the echo of music gradually disappeared.

“Stiles told me about you.” He smiled, nodding.

“Hope nothing too bad.” She blushed, and staggered a little along the way.

*

“Stiles, I need to talk to you.” She slurred some part of her speech and let herself stagger under the effects of the martini. She held herself controlled till now, but with Stiles she could lose it all, and he’d help her. That was the point, when she was a mess, Stiles was always going to be there.

She leaned against him, legless. “Lyd- Oh God- Lydia…” Stiles wrapped an arm around her.

“Just how drunk are you?”

“Severely inebriated.” She giggled, and Stiles winced, apparently the smell of alcohol on her was extremely beneficial to her act – which she supposed wasn’t that much of a lie anymore. She was drunk.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet.” Stiles glanced around, eyes falling on the entrance.

She held herself up. “It’s cold outside… hallway.” Stiles rolled his eyes, typical Lydia, she could be severely demanding even when wasted. They made their way through the bodies and into the hallway.  
  
Lydia quickly pressed _send_ on her phone before putting it back in, holding onto Stiles as he lead her out of the party.

_Now._

*

Derek, Boyd and Jackson jerked their head down the second they received their text, nodding to each other before going around the hall block, throwing their jackets into Jackson’s porch and loosening their shirt out of their pants. They were going to enter the school from its west side entrance, which was the shortest path to the indoor pool area, Jackson took it enough times to know it by heart, even if it was dark and he was severely tipsy. He shook his head, trying to clear out his senses.

“Use your claws and make a small cut, it’ll kick start the healing process.” Derek told him as he forced the side door open, eyes blistering red.

*

“I wanted to talk to you about Scott.” They were besides the pool door; Allison was leaning against the wall.

“Yes?” His voice grew careful, steady, and Allison didn’t miss the flicker in his eyes.

“I wanted to apologize for how he acted… I heard what happened between you two… I tried to make him see reason, but…” She looked away.

“He’s just really protective of Stiles.” She concluded finally, looking down. “We all are.” Her gaze flickered upwards.

“I understand. I don’t bear any grudges toward Scott. I’m sure Stiles doesn’t either.” His voice remained smooth and unwavering.

She smiled. “That’s good. I’m relieved, I was worried this will create a wall between them.”  
  
“You don’t have to worry. Stiles values his friends more than anything, and I respect that.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Although I don’t understand why.” Klaus suddenly turned serious, voice taking a bitter note.

“What?” She looked at him, baffled.

“There was a very large wall between him and all of you and I wasn’t the cause of it.”

“That’s not very fair.” Allison felt her cheeks burning up.

“I’m sorry.” Klaus bit his lower lip, gaze falling to her. Allison opened the pool door, walking in and taking a seat. Klaus followed her.

“I hope I didn’t offend you. I just - I care about Stiles too.”  
  
“I know.” Her voice was a whisper and cracked. She forced herself to regain composure, it was her turn.

“We did create a wall… and Peter helped kick him out…” Her voice was sincere, nonchalant.

He was about to nod before realization dawned on him and his eyes turned wide.

“Sorry, What?”

It was all the confirmation she needed.

*

She giggled her way throughout the hallway, leading him to the stairs and sitting down. She glanced around quickly, trying to see if Deaton and Amanda were anywhere close.

“Stiles… I need to talk to you.” Her voice was still a little swigged – this time involuntarily. A silent calmness dawned in the area; the long array of lockers multiplied and contorted her vision – she drew a quick breath and tried to adjust her visualisation.

“Yes?” He sat beside her, he was on his sixth shot of vodka and his – he lost count of how many – number of vodka mixed with cola. The lights were dancing all around him and he blinked several times, trying to focus.

“You seem to really like Klaus.”

“I do. Yeah. I guess. He’s _really_ nice.” It took him two seconds too long to get ‘really’ out, but he was drunk and so was Lydia – no one was judging him.

“But? Is there a but?” She looked at him, and her eyes were half pleading.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He suddenly remembered it had been since Tuesday morning that he took the tonic. He had went home and brought it with him. He couldn’t recollect where he had left it, he had shared a pizza with his father and spent the night watching movies with him; ending up sleeping on the couch. Well, the alcohol was doing its job just as well.

“I’m just living the moment, you know’” He smirked, relaxing his posture.

“Do you still… Do you still have feelings for Derek?” She looked at him, studying his face.

“Lydia I spent years head over heels for you and it was a crush. I also spent a lot of time trying to forget about you. And I did.” Half of his words were slurred and he was gesturing at empty air.

“Because then I didn’t just crush over someone else, I freaking think I fallen for him – completely. God. So stupid. It was so stupid. I finally got over you and ended up falling for someone-” He laughed sadly. “For someone just as impossible to get.”

He looked at her face, her expression a mixture of comprehension and – He loathed that _look_ – pity.

It made him feel like a complete and utter failure.

“But it’s okay… y’know, It’s kind of my fault, y’know, because I always went for things way over my head. Like going after you.” He gestured at her and she smiled shyly before rolling her eyes.

“and falling for Derek.” His voice turned low. Lydia was about to open her mouth when he put a hand up.

“and fooling myself into thinking I could be a part of all that – you know, the _pack_. I’m always way over my head.” He giggled and stared down.

“Stiles.” She leaned onto him, trying to repress her own tears.

They stayed there for a while in empty silence, just breathing together.

*

“So, Scott was right.” She stood up, her position gaining confidence. She held her hands in her back pocket, clutching her knife.

“It’s not how it looks-“ Allison’s eyes flickered behind him. Klaus turned around and kicked Jackson, who was leaping towards him, to the other side of the room.

“Hitting a man from behind, bastards.” He moved his hand up and around Allison’s throat, choking her and pinning her against the wall.

She drew her knife, quickly stabbing him in his abdomen. He let out a painful screech, barely human, and stepped back – removing the knife. Suddenly Boyd and Derek moved inside the room, locking the door behind them and standing on the other side of the pool. Allison swiftly moved out, barging the door with a locker. She removed her dress, quickly going to her locker to retrieve her bow.

Boyd was the first one to charge against Klaus, his hand meeting the fey’s – and almost overpowering it before Klaus ducked and threw several upward punches, lifting him in the air and rapidly kicking him. Boyd’s back hit the wall, but he grounded his landing.

Jackson swallowed before moving himself, using his speed to leap around the room before jumping onto Klaus. Klaus dodged sideways and kicked him towards the wall, yet Jackson used the wall to push himself at Klaus once again. They exchanged blows, Jackson’s agility allowing him to keep up. He aimed a blow at Klaus’ still healing abdomen, causing the Fey to take a couple of steps back and emitting a slithering hiss. Klaus’ eyes burned purple and his hands, too quick for Jackson to predict, wrapped around the werewolf’s neck. He lifted him up with sheer strength and threw him at the wall, causing him to slam headfirst against the hard concrete.

Derek growled loudly, leaping accurately onto Klaus and pinning him to the ground. He landed several blows onto his face, the brute strength causing the edges of Klaus’ vision to blur. Klaus kicked Derek from underneath, throwing the alpha off of him and quickly moving onto him, dealing weaker but faster, relentless blows to the transformed face.

Derek growled, jerking up and hitting Klaus with his head before biting his shoulder, causing the Fey to yell in pain.

*

“If I told you that… Derek wants you… what would you say?” She whispered after a while.

“Lydia. That’s not fair. You know how much- Fuck. Don’t say stuff like that.” He looked down, shouldn’t the alcohol dull him? Not just make everything run through his mind like it’s on an unstoppable rollercoaster? He just poured his heart out to Lydia, which granted, wasn’t his first time – but still.

“I’m not lying.”

“Right.” He snorted.

“Stop thinking you’re so damn beneath us-“

Suddenly her voice was muted, as if the air around them turned into vacuum where no sound could travel. He felt removed; everything was suddenly detached and flying away. He shrugged, trying to hear her, but it was distant and slurred – incoherent. He tried to concentrate, wanting to make out her words but instead the voice was of someone else.

It was Klaus’, he was communicating to him in some way, but Stiles realized Klaus wasn’t talking to him directly. All he could hear was him yelling in pain. He jerked around, trying to make sense of it.

“Stiles?”

*

Boyd stood up and reached the two fighting, he wrapped his arms around Klaus’ neck, choking him from behind – trying to decapitate him. Klaus’ eyes glistened purple once again, his instincts taking over and emitting high pitched screeches to ward off the enemy. He was desperately trying to resist the paralyzing pain running through his system from Derek – whose teeth were still buried into his shoulder – and the hands which were slowly starting to crack the bones in his neck.

*

It was from somewhere close, the tingling sensation inside of him elevated his senses, rapidly overwhelming him. He lifted his arm around his neck, hearing Klaus’ sharp intakes of breath – as if he was choking – and feeling the constriction echo onto him. A sharp jabbing pain in his shoulder suddenly jerked him back to reality.

“What’s happening?” Stiles demanded.

His energy burned involuntarily, sobering him up and coiling around his skin like a thick invisible blanket.

“I don’t understand what are you-“

“You…” His eyes darkened and he opened his mouth in realization.

“You tricked me… you tricked me out here…” His voice turned dangerous, he could feel all his instincts and Klaus’ voice screaming to _attack_. He stood, up trying to clear his hand and gain control over himself. It was useless, he felt hollowly empty and emotionless, he could kill Lydia and he wouldn’t feel a single thing.

 _You can’t hurt Lydia_. A small part of his mind yelled back, but it rapidly turned into a whisper and faded away as Klaus’ desperate cries stunned his brain.

“TELL ME WHERE HE IS!” His voice came out as a loud, overwhelming amplified yell. The lockers around clattered and he noticed his energy had coiled around his trachea. Lydia flinched, crawling back against the wall.

Stiles closed his eyes, he could hear Klaus’ voice – and if he concentrated enough – His eyes blinked open, _Klaus was in the indoor pools._ He turned around to run but he was stopped by an invisible wall. He concentrated his energy into his eyes, causing his vision to rapidly gain clarity until he could see the thin layer of energy in the form of a cube holding him trapped.

“Lydia, go upstairs and warn Allison.” Stiles turned around to the voice’s source, Deaton was standing, holding hands with Amanda, several feet away from him down the hallway.

Another sharp intake of air from Klaus echoed inside his mind and ripped away what little control he had left.

He put a hand on the barrier, sending several blasts of thick invisible energy and causing it to collapse.

“Stiles. What you are doing is all because of Klaus, it’s him controlling you. But you’re a covenant, you can block him out.” Deaton spoke carefully, trying to make him see reason, but Stiles strolled confidently forward – completely alien.

“Move. Out. Of. My. Way.” The lockers rattled and scraps of metal tore themselves out of them, hovering in mid-air as their shape contorted and changed its form, obtaining bullet like features.

“Stiles, this is not what you want. Don’t do this.” Deaton’s voice fell on empty ears. Stiles smirked wickedly.

“Your biggest mistake was teaching me Deaton, mine was depending on you.” The bullets darted towards them but hit an invisible barrier, most of them fell against the thick layer of energy surrounding them, while the others pierced through it, falling just inches before reaching the duo.

Amanda panted. “Stiles…”

Deaton pulled out a small vase containing a blue liquid and threw it at Stiles, who deflected it towards Amanda. Amanda yelled in pain, falling down to her knees and causing the previously self-regenerating barrier to fall down.

He blinked in-front of her. His leap was almost instantaneous, his movements heightened with his own energy. He concentrated his magic around his hands, lowered himself and pierced Amanda’s gut with his elongated nails - claws. He felt the energy seep out of her body and into his, dark veins creeping out of her flesh and travelling along his own.

He stood up, looked at Deaton’s terrified face before blasting him against the lockers. The power he felt surging through him made him high, completely foreign and estranged from everything. It was titillating – thrillingly unbelievably how everything seemed so worthless and _little_ compared to him. It disorientated him, his vision staggering a little when he moved, almost losing footing as the adrenaline and sheer excitement rushed through his veins. Scott appeared from nowhere, using himself to cushion Deaton from taking the hit up-front.

Isaac appeared from behind and kicked him, throwing him off skiing on the floor. Stiles stood up easily, letting the energy seep into each and every one of his muscles. Black veins appeared all over his body, slithering throughout his skin like snakes.

“I was a little dazed, sorry, you know, absorbing someone’s essence is _such_ a rush.” His voice was high pitched and disgustingly excited. “You know Scott, it is a-lot like weed. God you must remember all the fun we had, how it used to send shivers through our spine and make us all giggly and insane. You know, before you all fucked _me_ up.”

His voice turned low and brutal and he blinked, his eye’s sclera glistening as black as his iris. “Now it’s my turn.”

*

Klaus punched Boyd in his teeth, causing the granite hard fangs to break and the werewolf to howl in pain. He twisted around Derek, kicking him and sending him rocketing into the water. He turned back to Boyd, slamming him with the back of his hand repeatedly, knocking the winds out of him, and elbowing his head until he fell to the floor, barely conscious.

He felt the sudden rush of power course through his veins. Something had happened with Stiles. Klaus felt his own skin tingle with power, he knew it wasn’t his, he could feel Stiles’ energy seep into him, and it was shatteringly inebriating. His shoulder healed rapidly, its skin tying itself together and rebuilding itself. He dived into the pool, maybe he couldn’t kill the alpha himself, but he sure could beat him to a pulp and wait until Peter finished the job.

They exchanged blows under the water, clawing and shredding skin apart – trying to suffocate each other. They detached themselves and went up for air, quickly getting out of the water.

“You son of a bitch. I won’t let you control Stiles any longer.” Derek leaped onto the Fey, causing them to roll and exchange blows, trying to pin each other to the ground.

“What do you care? You left him alone and now you suddenly give a shit?” Klaus momentarily gained the upper hand and punched the alpha in the jaw, trying to unwind him.

“And whose fault was that? I know about Peter.” Derek dug his claws deep inside Klaus’ stomach, causing blood to come gargling out of his mouth.

“You manipulated everything, you manipulated us, and you manipulated Stiles!” Derek kicked him and he staggered backwards. They both panted heavily as their wounds healed themselves, draining them further.

“Maybe. But I do care about him.” He said in between sharp intakes of air.

“You care about him by turning him against us?! I know my uncle, he always plans ten steps ahead, and I know his goal is to kill me and the rest of the pack!”  Derek charged forward, spearing Klaus against the wall.

“What was it? Did he trade you Stiles in return for your help in bringing us down?” He pressed Klaus against the wall, choking the Fey with his arm.

“You sure made it easy. It was so easy to get Stiles in the first place because you all abandoned him!” Klaus kicked Derek in his stomach and hit him with the back of his hand, making him fly backwards. Derek landed on his hands, swiftly rolling and standing up again before charging.

“We made a mistake. I made a mistake. But I’m not about to lose Stiles for that, not to you.” They clutched each other’s hands, trying to overpower each other.

“You never had him in the first place. I deserve him! You don’t!” Klaus suddenly ducked, throwing several upward punches against Derek’s jaw and kicking him away. He panted heavily, feeling his muscles reattaching themselves once again.

“If you care about him, you wouldn’t turn him against those he cares about most. You wouldn’t manipulate him like that.” Derek howled, allowing his wolf to gain more control over himself.

“And what would you do? An alpha? You would claim him as yours? Is it that much different?”

“There will be one difference, I’ll depend on him just as he will on me, protecting him will become instinctive. So let me ask you Klaus, between yourself and Stiles, who would you let take the fall?”

Klaus stepped back, swallowing. “I won’t hurt him.”

“You already are. Wake up Klaus, you’re preparing him to kill his friends and he won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“Covenants can choose for themselves. When I’ll kill all of you Stiles will help me and it will be because _he_ wants to.” He flinched midway throughout his sentence, voice wavering slightly. That wasn’t true anymore, he had been desperate, and he gave Stiles the tonic to weaken him – but that was _necessary_. Stiles would have never agreed – understood – he was already influencing him and it wasn’t enough. He just needed to make Stiles see things his way. His breath halted when he felt sharp claws digging into his back.

“You know something really outstanding about werewolves? Klaus? They can tell when you lie.”

Derek was suddenly onto him, he couldn’t move; Jackson’s claws twisted in his back, momentarily immobilizing him. Derek punched him in the stomach, causing Jackson’s claws to drill further into him and his vision to contort. He was thrown into the water, and he saw the werewolves diving after him as his sight cleared out.

*

Isaac was hovering mid-air, Stiles’ energy constricting him rapidly from every side like walls squeezing against him, his arm was crushed and he could feel his ribcage starting to crack.

“God, I’m sorry Isaac, but I really always hated you, more than anyone else. I tried to be nice, really I did. Because it wasn’t your fault my fucking idiot for a friend forget all about me the second you appeared with all your innocence and that stupid lost puppy face. Do not worry, this is not about it, I’m a mature person you see. I accepted that Scott got new friends, it is how life works; people use you and then throw you away. I was ready to move on. And now that I am finally moving on and you know – finding someone of my own, you freaking decide to get in the way.” He constricted his hold further.

“I mean really, it’s like you have a death wish.”

Something inside Stiles’ brain screamed against what he was about to do, and in that instant of control he slammed Isaac away, stopping himself from crushing him further.

“Get away from me.” It was a half threat, a half plea. The unbelievable anger he was feeling was only being restrained by the hesitance of whatever control he had left, he could only register that the moment he absorbed Amanda’s energy he wasn’t himself anymore.

Isaac rolled on the floor, wincing in pain and exhaustion. Erica -who had followed the two – rushed to him, falling to her knees and holding him.

“Erica, get him out of here.” Scott launched at Stiles, hoping to subdue him, he knew that Stiles would blast him away but at-least he could distract him for long enough.

Suddenly Stiles fell to his knees. Something was happening – he had felt his energy continuously seeping away from him and into Klaus, supporting the Fey while draining him rapidly; but now it was different, his energy suddenly pummelled down as if someone sucked it out of him.

He received the full assault of Scott’s attack and jerked backwards, disorientated and feeling every cell of his body burn in agony as the energy seeped out involuntarily. An immobilizing soreness crept within him from over usage, making his torn muscles ache.

He had to go to Klaus, he had to find him and help him - they were weak while separated. He couldn’t support Klaus like this for any longer. He tried to use his energy but it left him, finding its way to where Klaus was.

Scott was standing in-front of him, position feral but expression baffled. Stiles’ vision blurred and his body started shaking involuntarily. He could feel himself growing weaker and weaker, and everything was dimming. Scott’s cries of ‘ _Stiles?’_ and ‘ _What’s happening?!’_ turned incoherent as his senses faded rapidly.

“Stop.” His own plea came out hoarse. Klaus had to _stop_. This was getting _dangerous_ – paranoia took over him as his breath started faltering. He looked around, desperate to cling onto _something_. Tears flowed out of his reddening eyes as distress clouded him. The same sensation he had felt when Matt was pressing into his chest while he was paralyzed to the ground echoed through him, the same kind of utter _hopelessness_. He had to do _something_ – he was getting closer and closer to the brink of consciousness; closer than when he had Kali’s claws crushing his bones. Everything was out of his own control – out of his reach.

*

Klaus tried to hang on to something but he was pinned down to the pool floor by the two werewolves, Boyd was choking him and every time he gasped for air he sucked in water unwillingly. He was frantic, looking around for a way out but finding nothing. He felt his own control slip away and his instincts taking over, his instinct to survive no matter _what_. His eyes burned purple and he felt his strength coming back to him in desperate large ounces, he quickly dislodged himself – movements feral and fraught as he used the pool’s floor to push up and leap out of the water.

Derek and Boyd quickly followed, expression baffled and their own lungs hungry for air. He quickly wrapped his hands around their neck, choking them and making sure they didn’t get to inhale, both the alpha and his beta writhed – hopelessly trying to dislodge themselves from the Fey’s grip. It was _useless_ , more and more power kept flowing through him. Boyd was the first one to start losing consciousness, and he dropped him into the water to focus on the alpha, whose struggling was becoming more and more savage.

He grinned, taking in the beautiful pleasure at watching the alpha’s crimson eyes dim. The satisfaction that he was _winning_ only gave him more motivation to strengthen his hold.

He was going to have Stiles for himself. This was perfect. He didn’t care about Peter anymore; all he had to do was kill them and be with Stiles. He let out a laugh of glee.

_‘Klaus.’_

_‘Stop.’_

The choking voice echoed in his head, confusing and alerting him. His laugh quickly dimmed as apprehension dawned onto him.

Stiles was _dying_.

_He was draining the life out of Stiles._

Klaus quickly dropped the alpha into the water and ran out of the pool, rushing to him. He found Stiles writhing on the floor before a frantic Scott.

“What happened? What are you doing?” Klaus’ claws dug into Scott’s chest, lifting him up and slamming him against the wall. He turned to Stiles and quickly lifted him in his arms, running away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the question of whether Klaus is really evil or not. Everyone is free to interpret the character however they see most fit. He's more of a 'grey-area' character. 
> 
> I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing, It's my first time writing fighting scenes and I tried to integrate a fast moving kind of rushed atmosphere.


	12. Crossroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final Chapter of the story.

“Where am I?” Stiles’ voice was soft; he was seated in a car, seat drawn back for him to lie down. He tried to sit up but he couldn’t move, the ache in each and everyone one of his muscles pained him to immobilization.

“You’re in my car, Stiles. I’ll drive you to the apartment. I swear everything will be okay.” Klaus’ eyes flickered momentarily towards him before gazing back to the street ahead.

“Take me home.”

“Yes. Just wait.”

He forced his voice to gain strength. “No, _my_ home. To my dad.”

“Stiles…” Klaus began.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Not now. I need to clear my head, just, take me home. Please Klaus.” His voice slurred as unconsciousness took claim over him once again.

“Okay. I will.” 

*

Stiles woke up in a fetal position in his bed, under several sheets, his hands curled under the pillow, burying his head further in the soft fabric. He smelled the odd taste of his room, it felt almost alien to him now; his system was already adjusted to the blueberry-

He jerked up, the stabbing pain slithering through him in retaliation, and gasped as he recalled what had happened the night before.

_He almost killed Lydia._

_He almost killed Isaac._

_He… killed… Amanda…_ His hands trembled, not from pain but panic – sheer overwhelming panic. _He killed Amanda._ The memory of her energy seeping into his skin disgusted him, it’s touch was of blood being smeared all over his body, covering him completely in a pool of red and painting him a different colour.

He heaved, taking large gulps of air each time he inhaled but finding the air blocked on its way down to his lungs.

There were voices in the Kitchen. His father’s and someone else’ – was it Melissa’s? No.

He twisted in his bed, and grasped his own throat, trying to let himself breathe. Klaus’ tonic was on the window ledge, standing on its own and reflecting shafts of light.

It was morning. He looked at his clock on the nightstand – it was still seven, yet he couldn’t believe he slept throughout the entire night. Or maybe he didn’t - it was well after midnight when it happened.

Stiles rushed inside the bathroom, rinsing his face with water; the blood-shod feeling of disgust wasn’t going away. Something inside him screamed and danced in the blood – happy and sadistically revolting.

He heard the voice better now that he was closer to the stairs, the voice was strangely familiar. Could it be? He walked down the stairs slowly – his body felt dull and strange, as if he was inhabiting it for the first time – learning how to adapt to it.

Stiles froze in the entrance of the kitchen when he saw Derek, a cup of tea in his hands seated around the table, and the sheriff on the other side. He swallowed. He knew Derek fought with Klaus, he also knew Klaus used his energy to try and kill Derek.

“Son. You don’t look so good.” The sheriff was already moving towards him when Stiles’ hands shot up. It was strange, stopping his father from coming towards him, half his mind reasoned that he just had to calm his dad down; the other half knew that it was because he felt too disgusting to be touched by his dad – like he would give himself away – like his dad would notice the blood oiled onto his skin.

“Hey. It’s okay. Just hung over, badly.” He grinned, hoping the act put his father off.

“Hey Derek.” His tone took a hundred different octaves as he pronounced the name out loud.

Derek nodded, face stern and sharp.

That expression was almost enough to break Stiles down, that expression worn by witnesses of a murder. It ignited the foreboding dark feeling inside him. It forced him to fall to his knees and sob, but he couldn’t – not with his father here.

Stiles nodded. “Derek, wanna come up?”

His dad looked between them suspiciously yet somewhat baffled. He grew to tolerate Derek throughout the previous year and a half, perhaps it was because he knew things Stiles desperately tried to hide.

The sheriff nodded a silent consent. Derek stood up and walked behind Stiles, the tension casting an ominous silence in the room.

“Thanks for the coffee, Sir.”

*

“How are you feeling?” Stiles made himself busy arranging some of his clothes while Derek leaned against the door frame, gaze fixed on him.

“I’m… I’m fine…” He swallowed. “Is Amanda-?”

“She’s alive.” Stiles exhaled hungrily, the notch blocking the air loosening a little – allowing him to breathe easier.

“Stiles… I’m sorry about all of this. I am.” 

“Just. What was happening yesterday? Were you trying to kill him?” Stiles asked, voice still shaken.

“Yes, I’m sorry we left you in the dark, but we couldn’t risk him getting suspicious.” Derek looked down.

“I knew.” Stiles said, cutting him off.

“What?” Derek looked up at him again, confused.

“I knew Klaus was the fey. I knew everything. I just didn’t think-“

“That what? He wouldn’t hurt us?” Derek snorted, his voice turning low and accusatory.

“I can’t believe – you _knew_ about him, you knew what was happening and you still-“ His face was a mixture of hurt and disgust. “You still went with someone like him?!”

A rush of anger spiked through Stiles, he couldn’t bear being regarded like the one in the wrong, and not after everything they did to him. 

“No, you don’t get to look at me like that. You don’t get to look at me like I’m some whore, Derek. You were the one who pushed me away. You all were! You all used me until I stopped being worth it and threw me away and I didn’t tell you anything about it. I didn’t even hate you – I just sucked it up. I sucked it up and tried to fix myself. I have fallen for him because I had nothing left. I had nothing to hold onto. So you don’t get to judge me, none of you do!” Stiles was heaving by the time he finished, choking on anger and hurt, his eyes were red and fixed in place, trying too hard not to tear.

Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, at one moment he was standing there in hollow silence, waiting for Derek to reply, to say _something_ , and the other he was pinned to the wall, Derek’s lips on his. It felt different than when Klaus and him kissed, it didn’t slow his mind and dull everything in a foggy haze of lust, instead it opened every door in his brain and let his thoughts fly and burst and change into hundred different shapes that seemed to make perfect sense. Someone shocked him from sleep and he was waking up, waking up to a sensation that mesmerised him – stunned him completely. With Klaus it was about everything growing silent around him, dulling into a numbing drunken sensation that let him just give in, with Derek it was about everything exploding in hundred different things, everything arranging and re-organising itself into making perfect sense, it wasn’t about giving in, it was about taking what is his and giving back in return.

Derek’s lips didn’t leave his for an instant, almost too afraid to let go – the smell of earth, green and the sweet, delicate feeling of on otherwise dominant skin wrecked him, made Stiles just want more and more; their tongues danced around each other’s, a mixture of hesitation blended with blind passion playing a tug of war with their actions, bound between stopping as fast as possible or continuing for as long as their lungs allowed them.

They finally moved apart, Stiles was still pressed against the wall – panting heavily. Derek was staring at him, eyes studying and filled with hundreds of colours and emotions – too intense for Stiles to look away from.

“Then let me bring you back, hold onto me. Peter fooled me, I know that. But let me be there Stiles, allow me-“It was a whisper, a plea.

“Wait… what?” Stiles’ brows furrowed, his shirt was half opened and his hair was dishevelled, disarrayed by Derek’s fingers.

“Stiles, I know it was our fault, but the only reason I let you go, the only reason I left you alone was because I listened to him. I’m so sorry Stiles, I was such a fool, but I thought I was protecting you like that, I knew you deserved better.” _I still do._

The silent added message went across too, not by Derek’s lips, but by the downward glance of his eyes.

“But this time it will be different, that I promise. Give me another chance, please Stiles. The others may not need you, but I do.”

“Wait Derek, what does Peter has to do with any of this?”

Derek’s brows furrowed. “He was the one who planned everything out with Klaus… lured him to you… he was the one who convinced us to let you go…” It seemed to Derek that he was repeating unnecessary information, yet it dawned on him that for Stiles, this was all new.

“You’re lying.” Stiles shook his head, that was impossible – that couldn’t be _true_. This was insane, it was too much information for him to handle.

“Stiles, it was how I learned about Klaus, I trailed Peter.” Stiles brought his hands up to his mouth, aghast.

“You didn’t know anything about this, did you?”

Stiles’ voice turned into a whisper. “No.”

“Stiles. What is that?” Derek asked after a moment, sniffing around.

“What is what?”

“This smell, it’s like poison… or acid. It’s different.” Derek looked around, trying to identify the source, until his eyes fell on the tonic.

“What’s that?”

“Something Klaus gave me to help me.”

“Stiles. That’s poison.”

Stiles let out a small laugh. “Derek it’s not that bad, it’s not poisonous, I swear. Actually it’s been helping-“ His eyes widened in realization.

“Stiles?”

Stiles drew a breathe, that’s why everything felt so easy every time he took the tonic, that’s why he had lost control the previous day, and that was also why all his doubts and questions disappeared. He was confused and the tonic gave him clarity, and when he was in pain, the tonic gave him conviction.

Yet now he realized that it was that same confusion and pain he felt that was the part of his brain that was _him_.

“Listen… I need to be alone… I have to think a little… this is too much.”

“Stiles, I won’t leave you here, Klaus will come back.”

“He won’t hurt me, I swear. I just. I need some time, please, could you give me that?”

Derek stared at him for a while before nodding reluctantly.

“Thank-“ Derek kissed him again and left from the open window.

Stiles fell to his knees.

*

“Where were you all night?” Klaus had Peter pinned against the tree trunk, eyes ablaze and expression furious. They were in the clearing they met in a few days earlier. Sun rose, and dawn casted a red shade on the leaves, they shook and hustled with the wind, making their shadows dance.

“I was out of town; I needed to disappear until Saturday. I had no idea that they knew everything.” Peter said rapidly.

Klaus threw him across the ground. “You ruined everything, you son of a bitch, you promised you had everything under control!”

“We can still do this, give me my share of the bond. The three of us will be able to take down the alpha.”

“Stiles will never agree to kill them, not after what happened.” Klaus glanced sideways, recalling everything.

“Use the damn tonic, increase his dose and take away his will, completely.” Peter stood up and moved closer to him.

“Forget it.”

“Make it temporary, only until we finish this mess, it’s not like you can keep Stiles with you without it.”

Klaus stared at him for a while before sighing, position seemingly relaxing.

“I don’t care about the tonic or you anymore.”

“What do you-?” He stabbed Peter with his claws, penetrating his flesh and digging in until he grasped his still beating heart.

“No. Don’t. You can-“

Klaus’ hands twisted into a tight fist and he drew his arm back. Peter fell to the ground, blood gargled out of his body, reddening the leaves and turning the soil dark.

*

Klaus opened his apartment’s door and went into the kitchen, washing his hands clean. His head jerked up the moment he realized Stiles was standing in the living room, just beyond the arch separating it from the Kitchen.

“I know about Peter.” Stiles’ said darkly, voice bitter.

“He manipulated the pack against me so that you can use me; you made it seem like some coincidence when it was all planned.” He spit his words boldly.

“At first it was, but then I truly wanted to be with you. I do care about you, Stiles.” Klaus moved away from the Kitchen and into the living room.

“You care about me? Seriously? How? By forcing me to kill my friends? You knew how important they are for me! All you wanted is to use me to get some sick sort of a boost up!”

“I had no choice – Peter threatened to stop-“Klaus stopped midway.

“What is Peter’s plan? What was your plan?”

“Peter wanted to kill their Alpha to gain power, so that all of us would become stronger, and so that you’d be able to channel all our power and revive his family.”

Stiles laughed, more in shock and disbelief than anything else.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“He was crazy. But he’s not a problem anymore.”

Stiles’ quivered an eyebrow, and then narrowed his eyes when he saw drops of blood still hanging on Klaus’ arms.

“You killed him…” Stiles could all but whisper.

“He was threatening us! I’m doing this for you Stiles. Trust me.”

“Trust you? I know about the tonic too, it was poisoning my mind wasn’t it? Weakening me to turn into your puppet?”

 “All it did was ease your mind, make everything clear...”

“By poisoning me? Taking away my free will? I would have never hurt my friends, you know that! You orchestrated all of this to manipulate me, to help you kill them!”

“They abandoned you in the first place! Peter might have cut the strings but we both know they were already hanging thin! Think about it Stiles! You had already chosen to be with me, you chose!” Klaus shouted in anger, and Stiles flinched, taken aback.

“So why bother poison me? Why didn’t you let me think for myself?” He wanted to scream at Klaus that he still would have had a chance with them; that he and Peter had no business messing with them, that he had wanted to move on his own terms – but his argument was blocked somewhere in his brain amidst the jumble of thoughts and hurt and rage.

“Because I could see the kind of torment you were going through, all the doubts and all that pain, I wanted to save you from all that confusion.” Klaus leaned closer, calming down and trying to approach him.

“You should’ve trusted me to stand by you all on my own.”

“So show me I can. Stand by me now. You’re in control of your actions.”

“And am I really in control of my actions? It didn’t seem that way to me yesterday. And how can I trust you now? After you sucked the life out of me less than a day ago!?”

“I had no choice, they were about to kill me, everything became instinctive; the moment I realized what was happening I rushed to you.”

“That’s no excuse.” Stiles‘ voice was low, disappointed.

“You have to know that I would never do anything to hurt you. Please. You know that.” Klaus placed his hands on Stiles’, but Stiles pulled away.

“I don’t know that. Not anymore. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t go back to them, they are certain you’re manipulated by me. Anything you do will further convince them. Especially what you’ve done. So be with me, stand by me.”

He picked up a glass from the cabinet and poured some of the tonic in it.

“Drink the tonic, you know what it does. You know it will help you. So drink it. All on your own.”

Klaus moved closer to Stiles, eyes fixed on his. Stiles hesitated and then drank the tonic in one quick mouthful. Klaus smiled and wrapped his arms around his middle.

“I love you Stiles.” He leaned in and kissed him. “Just remember that whatever happens next, we’ll stand together.”

“What do you mean? Whatever happens next?”

“They are going to come for me, Stiles. And if it comes down to them or us…”

“What? Kill them? No. No.” Suddenly a rush of nausea overwhelmed him and he ran to the bathroom, locking himself in.

“Stiles?!”

Stiles loomed over the toilet and threw up, vomiting the tonic. He washed his face, forcing himself to stare at the mirror. His eyes were shadowed and he felt weak. Most of all he felt confused. Half of his mind whispered to him incessantly, telling him to trust Klaus, that he’d make everything okay for him; the other half wanted all of this to be over, wanted to get out of this nightmare. Wanted to be with Derek.

Images of what had happened appeared in his mind like a slideshow, everything aligning itself as he struggled to make sense of everything that had occurred to him during the past months. How could he trust Klaus after everything that he did to him? Yet how could he trust Scott and the others, Klaus was right, they pushed him away. His place wasn’t with them anymore; his place now was with Klaus. He didn’t have a spot in the group; he wasn’t part of the pack. He heaved incessantly and suddenly everything lost its colour.

He looked around and the vibrating echo of his breathing reminded him of the fact that this had already happened in Klaus’ room.

“You’re not dreaming.” Peter’s voice boomed in the silence, making him jump in surprise.

“What! Oh my god! What are you doing here?” He asked, horror-struck.

“I don’t know actually, you contacted me.”

“The last person I want to talk right now is you.” He recomposed himself and walked backwards, trying to gain distance, but it was no use, there was no significant distance between the sink and the door, so he remained there, staring at Peter’s echo in the mirror, still afraid to actually look at him.

“Is that so?” Peter tilted his head, he was leaning against the wall besides the small window, on the opposite side of the room, yet only a couple of feet away from where Stiles stood.

A momentary stillness fell on both of them. “Why?” Stiles asked.

“huh?”

“Don’t act dumb. You know what I’m talking about. Why?”

“I wanted to see my family again.”

“By killing Derek? Using me like that? How is that… That was sick, Peter.”

“Sit down. I need to talk to you.”

“I’m listening, here is just fine.”

“Stiles when I was burned and immobile all I thought was of the possibility that maybe at-least my three year old daughter survived; that maybe my wife did too.”

Peter moved closer until he was standing behind him, looking at him from the mirror’s reflection.

“When I woke up I exacted revenge, I was happy. I thought I was done, but all I could think about is that memory, replaying in my head over and over again, of those who I loved most die. When I died, I thought it’d be all over, that I’d be with them. Instead I realized that I’m not seeing them again, even in death everything was empty and hollow.”

“So you kill-“

“Let me continue… I came back, and I thought that maybe I could fix things; I could have a new family. I thought I could forgive Derek, I knew that it wasn’t his fault from day one, but that anger still resided deep within me and when I came back I just couldn’t repress it anymore. It’s like I came back to the land of the living and left my heart behind. All I could feel was hatred and rage and it slowly blinded me. It drove me insane.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry for everything I did. I know you still doubt them; I know you think that they do not care about you, and that you have no place with them. That Derek only kissed you to try and sway you away from Klaus. But it isn’t true. For what it’s worth, they might be idiots but they do love you. They want you back Stiles. Derek wants you back, he always wanted you – he was just too scared, too broken – he couldn’t trust you, or himself.”

Stiles’ eyes blurred, tears burning his eyes. He blinked, willing them away.

“I took advantage of him and what he went through, and for that, I am sorry.”

Stiles rubbed his eyes. “How do I know I belong with them after all that happened? After everything I did?”

“You follow your heart, and then you fix things. Derek does love you Stiles. I know you love him too.”

“How are you here? You’re dead… aren’t you?”

“Yes. I don’t know, I think it’s you. I’m not going to be here for any longer.”

“Where will you go?” He asked, and no matter how much hatred he tried to muster, his voice tinged with concern.

“I don’t know, Stiles. I don’t think I’ll exist anywhere any longer. I think that’s what I have missed, to exist one does not need to be there physically, sometimes you can keep them forever alive up here.” He gestured to his head, smirking. A solemn silence fell on them, an extreme sadness making both swallow down in trepidation.

“I won’t forget about you. Neither will Derek.” Stiles nodded certain.

“I know.” Peter smiled, and then disappeared. The shades of grey blended together once again, turning everything black. Stiles woke up to his own reflection in the mirror, he was still standing. It was as if time hadn’t passed.

A loud crash resonated through the room and forced Stiles out of his daze, galvanising him to recompose himself. He was wrong – time had passed.

He felt transfixed, unable to comprehend what exactly was happening. The sounds of fighting hammered and boomed from outside of the room.

*

“You made a big mistake coming here, Derek.” Scott, Erica and Boyd were on the floor, their senses on the edge of consciousness and body idle.

“My apartment is filled with a rare kind of wolfsbane that when ignited, releases a paralytic poison.” Derek was on his knees, blood gushing out of his belly.

Klaus withdrew his hands from where he stabbed Derek, hissing in pain as Allison’s arrow dug into his shoulder. He pulled it out and threw it Allison, who ducked quickly, the force behind it made it fatal.

Scott growled, trying to get up, his attempts were however futile. Allison took out her small knifes from her pocket, shielding Lydia and Deaton. Klaus charged at them, but a powerful blast of energy sent him flying backwards and rolling on the floor. Deaton fell to his knees, the attack draining him completely.

“Stiles, wherever you are, we need your help.”

Klaus shook his head, trying to compose himself, and stood up slowly, movements still shaky from the hit.

“You evil son of a bitch.” Derek gathered enough strength and charged towards him, spearing him in the middle and slamming him against the arch in the living room’s entrance.

He held Klaus pinned to the wall, buying enough time for Allison to aim her arrow.

“Stiles, get out here and help us damn it.” Lydia shrieked - a self-igniting Molotov cocktail in her hands, preparing to launch it the moment Klaus detached himself from Derek.

Klaus grabbed Derek from the waist, spinning him and throwing the Alpha across the room. Lydia raised her hands, preparing to throw.

“Don’t make me kill you.”

“Stiles, you heard what you said. He’s going to kill us, help us!” Derek pleaded, the wolf’s bane slowing down his body’s recovery, holding him grounded.

Stiles leaned against the bathroom’s door, eyes red and face swollen from tears. “Forgive me.” He muttered, weakly.

Klaus dodged Lydia’s bomb, and it slammed again the cabinet in the living room, setting it ablaze. The alcohol bottles ignited the fire, small explosions spreading the flames.

Stiles went into the living room, Klaus stopped in his way towards Lydia, turning to face him.

“I am sorry Stiles, it’s, it’s for the best.”

“I know it is.” Stiles walked over to Klaus and kissed him.

“Stiles?” Derek said, tone broken, eyes wide.

Stiles moved away from Klaus.

“I’m sorry too.” A loud yell screeched around the room, shocking everyone as Klaus fell to his knees, writhing in pain. His muscles twisted in agony, veins popping as he tried to free himself from Stiles’ energy.

Stiles snivelled, trying to suppress his tears as Klaus’ purple burning eyes looked at him.

“Stiles, no. Please! Sti-“ He growled again in pain, the agony too antagonizing to allow him to finish the sentence. He plunged at Stiles, guttering, choking, drowning. Stiles had never seen those kind of eyes, that kind of despair and hurt, and he knew that in all his dreams, they would haunt him forever, pleading before his sight.

“How? This is not possible- It’s not possible- You’re not supposed to-“ Klaus heaved and tried to move away frantically, but Stiles held onto his arms.

“Stiles- If you kill me - Stiles, you can’t, they’ll just betray you again.”

Stiles dropped to his knees as well, he knew this too, would come. Klaus was draining him, using his own energy to survive. If Stiles was going to kill him, the only way was that he died too.

They were both on their knees; Klaus no longer fought him, now he was holding onto him, drawn out claws clutching at him as he heaved dreadfully, trying to tell Stiles that he was going to die too, with him – were he to continue. Stiles nodded, it seemed to him like he was confirming his actions to himself, while providing comfort to Klaus – whose eyes grew savage and feral.

Derek crawled behind Klaus, wrapping his arms around Klaus’ head.

Stiles choked and his breathing halted. “Now.” He commanded hoarsely, his energy left him, his body surrendering under Klaus’ complete hold.

It was already too late, energy pumped Klaus back from the edge of his consciousness, but this time Scott and Erica managed to crawl the Fey, assaulting and immobilizing him to the ground.

*

Klaus found himself under the water, the surface was just above him, he could see the Alpha’s face staring down at him. He tried to break out of the water, inhale before it was too late, but a thin glass sheet held him under. He was dying – he could already feel his feet losing sensation, growing dull.

He could punch right through the sheet of glass if he wanted. Desperation grew and threatened to blind him, he was about to raise his hands and break the fabric when Stiles’ foggy image appeared.

It was silent, everything suddenly calmed down and grew relaxed. He stared at Stiles for a while, smiled, and then nodded.

“Stiles I did love you. I will always love you.”

*

“Stiles I did love you. I will always love you.” The sharp clatter of snapping bones casted a sudden muteness in the room, Klaus’ body fell to the floor, and the only sounds remaining were that of Derek’s, Scott’s and Erica’s panting.

Stiles too, fell to the floor. Unconscious.

“Stiles!” They crawled around him.

“He’s alive, but barely, his heartbeat is slow… very slow.” Erica announced to Deaton, who loomed over them along with Lydia and Allison.

“It must have been when he was attacking Klaus. Klaus was using his own energy to survive.”

“Well how do we help him?!” Scott said, frantic. Derek stood still above the others, eyes wide.

“His heartbeat is slowing down. Deaton! He’s dying!” Everyone grew frantic, looking at Deaton for aid. “I don’t know how to help him, not at this point. Because he was bound to him, Klaus was his source of energy. Without him he’s dying. Especially since Klaus almost drained him to the brink.”

“But he’s a covenant. He’s supposed to recover faster, right?” Scott asked, holding Stiles’ head in his arms.

“Not if Klaus was his source of energy as a covenant as well, his only bond.” Deaton gestured frantically, trying to explain as quickly as he could. “Covenants draw power from their bonds, from their friends, family. When he severed them from us Klaus slowly became his one true bond, but he was using that bond against Stiles instead.”

“That son of a bitch… What are we going to do?!” Erica shrieked, glancing around in panic. Everyone remained mute, unable to say something useful. “Do something damn it!”

“How was he able to injure Klaus? Go against him? If he was completely bound to just him?” Lydia inquired, trying to understand.

“The only explanation is that he wasn’t, he was able to hold onto someone else, but it’s nowhere near strong enough to help him survive.”

“I don’t know what can help him, I have no idea.” He shook his head, dismayed.

“And then he dared to say he loved him…” Allison asked, biting her lower lip in frustration.

“He did.” Deaton stated.

“How can you say that?” She turned to him.

“Think about it Allison, if you were about to die, you’d do anything to survive, it become a reflex. Beyond your control. Klaus could have killed us all if he drained Stiles completely, but he didn’t. He died.”

“I know what to do.” Derek spoke for the first time.

“What?” Everyone turned to him.

“Leave me with him. Alone.” His voice was demanding, yet a slight falter in his tone turned it into a half plea.

“No. Derek-“

“Scott, I trust you. I trust you a-lot. Trust me with this, please.”

Scott stared at him, baffled, before nodding.

Derek waited until they all walked out of the room; he shook his head, clearing his senses off the wolfs bane, whose affects gradually faded once Klaus died.

“Stiles. I’m going to help you. I’m going to do something big. I’m hoping that you turning against Klaus meant you, in some way, for some odd reason chose me, over him. So I’m going to take that as consent for doing this.” His teeth grew once more into fangs and his eyes glistened red. “Stiles, I love you.”

He bit down into his shoulder, letting his fangs dig into flesh. Stiles’ own eyes fluttered open, red and bright before dimming back down to a honey brown and losing focus. Stiles lay limp against Derek, falling into a new deep slumber. Derek leant against him, exhaling in relief once he heard Stiles’ heartbeat pick up.

*

There was emptiness.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The rhythmic ticking of a clock echoed infinitely for a moment, before fading out again.

…Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The sound appeared again, this time more vivid. His capacity for experiencing things developed. He could hear it now, could locate it. It was a few feet away from him, it came from above him – the sound – the clock was on something.

He held onto it, not wanting to black out again.

The blackness, however; edged around him and coiled like a blanket onto his skin. He was afraid, but then he realized that now he could feel. He could feel the blackness clearing out.

He tried to move his legs, but it was futile. He realized with foreboding tension that his limbs were phantom and dead. He tried to lift an arm, to hold onto something, but everything felt like empty rubber hoses.

Everything turned black again.

Voices, whispers hushed and hissed in the room and washed the blackness away. He felt more awake this time. The volatile and dynamic sounds kept him from falling into the darkness again.

Pictures appeared, one after the other, a slideshow of images; nothing specific, but it gave him consciousness, and thought.

He focused on breathing and waited in agitation, waiting for the moment when he would be able to feel something. He felt pleasant; he could now hear his own heartbeat. The weak but steady bump! Thump!.

It got stronger, and although he couldn’t see anything, suddenly he could feel. Like a phantom body, sensation rushed through him and he was about to get up, but then he realized he still wasn’t moving. He just imagined it. His shoulder tingled, sending small waves of heat throughout his body. The heat felt so real he thought he could move. He clutched to that warm sensation. It got warmer and warmer. Hotter.

He could feel himself twitch. Little by little as the heat got so real he _knew_ he would soon wake up.

The warmth got hotter and hotter, like someone biting into his skin and scalding him with a poker – stabbing his insides with it, melting his flesh, using his shoulder as entrance to his body.

He wanted to scream, to yell and fight it from spreading inside of him, the warmth had to _stop_.

“Stiles?”

Everything suddenly dulled, and the fire was gone.

That was Derek. Derek was alive. He tried to lift him arm again, this time he could feel his skin twitch and tingle as his nerves tried their best to follow his brain’s commands. To wake up.

“He’ll be out for a while longer.” A familiar voice replied.

“His heart is still faint… It’s rising… slowly…”

Stiles wanted to open his mouth, to talk and tell Derek that it was all-right. He was all-right. Yet he could only feel his lips moving helplessly against each other, mumbling incoherently.

“Stiles?!” The warm earthly voice was louder now, tune sending a refreshing coolness throughout his body.

He embraced that sensation tightly and let it guide him out of the darkness.

His eyes opened wide, and the moment he realized he could move he jerked up. Derek and Deaton were staring at him, saying things he couldn’t hear, or comprehend. Their mouths were moving in futility – muted.

He glanced around, shocked, everything was weird – like they were staring at him, yet not really seeing _him_ looking right back.

He quickly moved his hands all over his body, trying to confirm that he could move - exhaling in relief as he realised the nightmarish petrification was over.

“Stiles, Can you hear me?” He looked at Derek, his voice drawing Stiles’ attention.

“Yes. Yes I can hear you.”

A dull ache settled in the back of his head, and he recognised everything was still too alien. The only thing he could interact with was Derek’s voice.

“I can’t hear Deaton.”

Deaton grasped his hand, yet the touch was dull, like being poked by plastic.

The rich earthly smell of leaves and green was back, and he looked around, realizing he was in Derek’s room.

He had only been there a couple of times, yet the smell orientated him instantaneously. He winced, a bright light blinding him and causing him to cover his eyes. Then everything dimmed, and he opened his eyes again when he realized Derek closed the curtains, covering the floor to ceiling window.

“He’s just sensitive, he’ll adjust gradually.”

“I can hear you!” Stiles gasped, relieved and extremely happy to be able to hear Deaton’s usually monosyllabic voice.

Deaton smiled. “Good. How are you feeling, Stiles?”

“I’m… I’m good… I think. There’s this thing in my shoulder.” He moved his arm to where the source of his now pleasant warmth originated, at first he noticed nothing strange, then he felt small holes in his skin, small wounds of a bite.

Deaton glanced towards Derek, who was standing on the other side of his bed, looking terrified.

“What’s this? Am I werewolf!?” His voice went an octave higher.

“No, you can relax Stiles, you’re not a werewolf. Derek would never do that without your consent.” There was an underlying message in Deaton’s tone, yet he couldn’t decipher it.

“Where are all the others? Is everyone all-right?” He asked as recollection crept into his consciousness.

“Yes. They are downstairs, have been all the time, waiting until you’d wake up.” Deaton said, wearing a smile.

“How long was I out?” He asked, confused.

“Three days, give or take. They fell asleep a couple of hours ago, we’ve been taking rounds.” Derek explained; his voice still hesitant.

Stiles looked at him, unable to glance anywhere else. Derek looked different; there was something different about him. He knew Derek, he knew him well. Derek usually wore a scowl to supress his sadness, this time he wore the same expression, to suppress –

Happiness.

He could see it in the way Derek was standing, all tense and excited and with his eyes watching Stiles’ every move. He looked wrecked, hair jutting out in hundred different directions, stubble overgrown and eye sockets bruised from exhaustion.

They stared at each other for a while longer, and he could feel his heart beating too fast – it wasn’t a surprise – yet the silence that had fallen in the room made his heartbeat seem like the only sound, focused on by a spotlight. He swallowed, embarrassed.

“Derek, why don’t you bring Stiles a wet cloth and some clothes? They are downstairs, I’m sure Stiles needs a little… refreshment.” Deaton interrupted the silence and saved Stiles from turning even darker shades of red.

Derek flinched, somewhat startled, and then nodded.

Stiles waited until he left the room before turning to Deaton, exhaling.

“Stiles-“

“Klaus is dead isn’t he? Stiles asked quickly, it was a confirmation rather than anything else. He felt completely different; there was no daze in his mind, the fog that had settled and clouded all the incessant questions that were _Stiles_ had lifted. He wasn’t sure how he felt about everything being stripped bare and vulnerable again. He wasn’t too sure about how he felt at the idea of that buzz  returning to his brain and tormenting him with one thought after the other until he exploded.

He knew it would soon come, a part of his mind feared the return of that loud clattering, ringing, buzzing noise in his head. He just had to learn everything before it came back to haunt him, he had to take advantage of whatever high, sleepy, pleasant sensation he was in - that was probably due to some kind of medicine Deaton had given him when he was out.

“Yes.”

Stiles gasped, swallowing before nodding, determined not to think about that yet, not to think about not having something to dull him again.

He was back to square one.

“Stiles, when you attacked Klaus – he used your own energy to survive.”

“I know.” He said, silent.

Deaton’s eyes widened, recognising what Stiles had intended to do.

“How am I… How am I alive? You said I’m not a werewolf, but I can feel something in my shoulder, and if it’s not a bite I have no idea what it is because it sure looks like teeth and my skin met at some point.” He drew a breath.

“Okay. Stiles. When Klaus died, you were fading away fast, and we didn’t know what to do. The bond you had with him made your life rely completely on his, now you, as a covenant could survive that. However, a covenant draws their power from their bond, and yours had died.”

“I know all of that Deaton, I’ve done my research. Could you just jump to the point? Please? Something must have happened, right?” He asked, wanting Deaton to stop being cryptic and hurry the damn up.

“Derek claimed you as his mate.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between them before Stiles guffawed back in laughter.

Deaton remained completely still.

“You’re joking. You’re joking right? I mean there’s no such thing as a werewolf mate? Or mating. Right? ...Right?” His voice went an octave higher, bewildered by the rapid apprehension that Deaton, indeed, wasn’t joking. At all. Dead Serious.

“Oh my god. What does that even mean?”

“Well, when you didn’t die, it must have been because you still had some sort of bond, no matter how badly severed, with us – and especially with Derek. I don’t know what happened, but somehow the bond you two had ignited and became strong enough to pull you back. Which I don’t understand, since you’ve been detached with him too, at-least as much as you were with Scott and the others. You needed something _really_ special to replace Klaus’ Fey bond, which by itself, its mechanism is designed to sever all other ties – prohibiting you from drawing power from anyone besides from him.”

“So how was I able to draw… stuff… from Derek?”

“As I said. It must have been something really special, Stiles. It was still barricaded, yet it was enough to reach to you. At-least until Derek could claim you his, completely.”

At first Deaton’s words were confusing, baffling him completely. Then he recalled the morning Derek had kissed him. Derek had told him he’d be there to hold onto, but it was only now that he comprehended just how literal that ended up being. Derek had opened up to him, trusted him. It was all that he ever wanted from Derek, to let him in, to let him be there. Make a part of his life.

“What do you mean… claimed by him completely? What is that about?“

“Stiles… I’m not sure I’m-“

“Please Deaton, just tell me.”

“It is something purely emotional; it’s when a person finds someone just right for them, a soul mate. It becomes biological only after that someone is claimed.”

“What do you mean biological?”.

 “Once he claimed you, things stopped being just about what you felt for each other as persons. It also became about trust. Now you draw power from him as your bond, and by extension the pack.”

“What about him?”

“When an alpha claims his mate, they mark them as their anchor and their soul mate, not just for themselves, but for the wolf within them too.  You do not just add to his power, but rather, you give him control and stability. It becomes instinctive for him to protect you with his life; as if he loses you could destroy him completely.”

“But is it real? Or is it just… because of some werewolf hormones?”

“It’s absolutely real Stiles, his feelings for you are just like any other person’s, claiming you just took everything… and enhanced it.”

“What If I die? Or he dies? What will happen?”

“Well, biologically, as a covenant you’d lose most of your power. Although that depends on how that affects your bond with Scott and the others. Emotionally… well that I guess, depends on you. What he means to you. What you mean to him. For him, if you do die, he too may lose his life, as a born werewolf, the wolf side of him mates for life, and if he were to lose his claimed mate. He would be severely damaged.”

“How could he trust me… with such a thing. I’m just, I’m human. Breakable. Easily breakable. Fragile bones. And very clumsy.”

“Not as breakable as you think, being an alpha’s mate has its perks.” Stiles quivered an eyebrow.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

And back to being old cryptic Deaton.

“Stiles!” The room’s door was barged open and Scott was there, with his stupid dopey adorable face and wide smile.

“Scott-“ The rest of them marched in, practically leaping onto the bed.

Scott and Erica curled around him, crushing him between them in a human sandwich. Boyd sat on the bed, a dopey smile on his face. Isaac was behind Erica, a little hesitant.

“Oh thank god you’re fine.” Stiles rolled over Erica and onto Isaac, beaming.

They scrambled around and laughed for a while before settling onto the bed. Allison, Lydia and Derek stood in-front of the bed – which Stiles realized was huge – smiling.

“Lydia!” She rolled her eyes and jumped in; causing them to scramble and erupt in fits of giggles again.

*

It was six in the afternoon, everyone had to leave and report back to their homes. Apparently they had spent the entire time in Derek’s apartment waiting for Stiles to recover.

Stiles was seated around the table, Derek passed him his coffee while he drank from his own cup, chipped and cracked. Stiles smiled.

“How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine.” His eyes flickered to Derek’s. “Everything is really… it’s really easy… I didn’t think it would be like this…”

“They care about you.”

“I know they do. I care about them too. More than anything.”

“Your father wants to kill you by the way.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, halting from raising his cup to his mouth. “Oh my-“

“Relax, Lydia told him you’re spending a couple of days here… You might have to talk to her and compare stories.” Derek smiled, white teeth and everything and Stiles found it really very hard not to stare.

“Thank God for Lydia.” He relaxed, trying to be non-chalant.

“Did Deaton tell you…” Derek’s voice was low, almost a mutter.

“Yes.”

“Ohh… Stiles… You must know I only did that because you were dying… I wanted to wait for you… but then everything started-“

“It’s okay, Derek.”

“If you don’t want this… You can still back out, the actual mating isn’t complete until we…” Derek flushed and fixed his gaze on the tea, as if it was personally offending him. His eyes momentarily shot up, glancing at Stiles, before quickly going back to his cup. “The others will understand, and it won’t change anything, I mean… Just because…”

Stiles stood up and went around the table. “As much as I find this role reversal situation where you’re the one babbling amusing. Shut up.” Derek’s eyes widened, and then he nodded, gulping down.

They stared at each other and then Stiles moved closer and kissed him.

And finally, finally he felt like the million shattered pieces that was his brain came together, glued itself back into one whole piece. He was done, everything was done. He wanted to be with Derek, he needed Derek, and Derek needed him too. There was no fear. No doubts. No fog. Just happiness and ease and feeling lost and letting himself hold onto Derek.

The kiss was hungry and sloppy, both of them trying to take as much from each other as they could, assuring themselves that it was happening. That it was real.

Thirty minutes later, they were panting and an absolute mess and Stiles was seated on the Kitchen’s cupboard, legs numb from being wrapped around Derek’s middle for so long.

“I… I have to go do something.” Derek grinned, as if enjoying a private joke.

“Like what?”

“Just. You’ll see. I’ll be back soon.”

“Well. I’ll be upstairs.” Stiles said huskily and Derek just kept smiling. Stiles wasn’t sure he could handle Derek smiling like that for so long, it was unheard of. It was also driving him nuts with happiness at the idea that he was the cause of it.

Derek opened the Kitchen’s door, which led to the backyard, and ran into the woods.

Stiles stood there, confused.

Derek ran into the forest, shifting into his wolf for the first time. For he now had an anchor that wasn’t volatile like fire, now he had an anchor that was solid and _Stiles_. Now he had a mate.

He howled, loud and proud and the sound resonated throughout the forest and the entire town of Beacon Hills.

And then, several howls, all of different origins, echoed back. Scott’s, Isaac’s, Erica’s, Boyd’s and Jackson’s – all howling back and making the leaves shudder with the vibrance of the multiple sounds.

Stiles ran into the woods in disbelief, looking around in astonishment trying to locate the source of the sound. He was hearing _everyone’s_ howling. He laughed in delight, he could _hear_ them, each and everyone one of them. It was like being connected to them, a pipeline between every one of them that held them bound. Derek’s howl echoed over and over again and the tingling sensation of pure ecstatic happiness made him shudder.

He used his magic to make two trees twist and curl around each other, and then closed his eyes, letting his energy seep into the soil and manipulate it to form Klaus’ face, settling the sculpture between the two trunks.

Afterwards, when he strolled back to the Hale apartment, and as he climbed the stairs up to Derek’s room, he realised that the buzzing wasn’t going to come back.

**********************

END.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who patiently stuck with me till the very end. I enjoyed writing it.  
> All comments, suggestions and thoughts are welcome. (They make me very happy!)  
> I hope the ending was as satisfying as you hoped.
> 
> :. Originally, I meant for Klaus to be evil - with the sole intention of killing the pack. Instead I gave him a 'deeper' role, while his intentions were, indeed, not good and he served as the fog that blinded Stiles, he also served as the torch which led him to his answers. :)
> 
> Special thanks to my beta for patiently helping me understand that a paragraph is not, indeed, just one long sentence.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Chapter 1 - 8 have been beta'd by Tish Albro - if you spot any mistakes/ have any suggestions please tell me about them, I'd be very grateful ]


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